#hard Jim Hopper

[neganwifey25-blog]

👀👀👀

*in Owen Wilson voice” Wow 😯

The Big Game

Modern AU where Jim Hopper is at your parent’s house for a Super Bowl party. That isn’t a plot so much as it is a very flimsy excuse for me to write out some dirty thoughts I have after seeing this photo of David Harbour looking like an absolute DILF.

Content Warnings: Rated M for age gap, kissing, over-the-clothes touching, a bit of Daddy kink, a little physical intimidation. All that good stuff. Female Reader. Slightly OOC for the sake of funsies. 1.6k words.

Tagging @t-u-m-s​. Anyone else want to be tagged when I post something new? Let me know.

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[hangon-silvergirl]

pt4: st4 & shirts that go hard (+)

[bitchysunflower]

“my dad is a cop and i just called him and he was like ‘hey i have a 17 year old in the back of my cop car rn’ ”

steve answering the phone: hopper? everything ok? i thought you were working rn

hopper: yeah yeah, all is good but listen

hopper: i have a 17 year old boy in the back of my car rn and he’s your type

steve: …what???

hopper: yeah I showed him you picture and he thinks your cute, i also gave him your number

steve: DAD STOP GIVING MY NUMBER TO RANDOM GUYS

eddie, in the back: this is the weirdest and greatest thing to ever happen to me

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

summary: you wind up a monster hunter, also third wheeling nancy and jonathan until steve harrington of all people shows up, surprise! between genuinely thinking you're going to die, fighting a monster, and trying to get will back, you're still wondering how you ended up in hawkins of all places. and, what's better, going back to living with your pos dad or fighting interdimensional monsters? you also find out steve harrington isn't as bad as you thought he was, yay!

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is King Steve realizing he might not be a king after all?” She teased, watching with amusement as he winced at the nickname, waving her off. "Please, don’t call me that," he groaned, rolling his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "And, uh, Carol and Tommy? Yeah, they turned out to be real assholes."  Y/N shrugged, her tone light but knowing. “You were an asshole, Steve Harrington.” She pointed a finger at the boy’s chest, before giving him a slight, playful shove. Steve’s shoulders slumped slightly as he gave a small, regretful shrug. “I guess we all were, and I’m sorry.” Y/N’s lips curved into a grin as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. “Apology accepted.”

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: mentions of a fight, death, blood, injury, cursing, monsters, and use of firearms and weapons

word count: 8.3k

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Outside Hawkins Middle School, the teens rushed to Jonathan’s car underneath the stars. Jonathan slid into the driver's seat, shutting the door with a sharp thud. Nancy climbed into the passenger seat, her eyes sharp and focused. In the back seat, Y/N slipped in and glanced between her friends, taking a deep breath.

“Will the kids be okay by themselves?” She was quick to ask, glancing between her friends in the front seats.

“They should be. We need to grab those supplies from the police station,” Nancy nodded, shifting in her seat and turning to face Y/N. “We can’t let Hopper and Joyce walk in there like bait. If we can kill that thing from up here, it’ll give them the upper hand.”

Jonathan nodded, “Then let’s grab what we need from the station and get the hell out of there.” He spoke as he ignited the engine, the car’s tires screeching against the parking lot asphalt as they backed out of their spot, rushing to the station.

𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Jonathan killed the engine as the group piled out of the car, their breath visible in the dark fall air. They rushed to the trunk where they had stashed the hunting tools and traps they had recovered from the police station after breaking in. Nancy grabbed the gasoline, while Jonathan hefted a box filled with bear traps and other supplies. Y/N took a deep breath and picked up a bat, turning to look at her friends.

Jonathan’s eyes scanned the shadows of the yard, his voice steady. “Let’s get inside and set up. We don’t have much time.”

They set to work immediately. Jonathan placed the bear trap in the hall, nailing it to the floor to be sure it was sturdy. Nancy reloaded the pistol they had stolen from Jonathan’s dad, while Y/N shuffled around the house, checking the windows and making sure all their defenses were in place, then began pouring a gasoline trail leading to the bear trap.

After everyone finished their contraptions, they gathered in the living room. “Remember—” Jonathan began reciting their plan, glancing between the two girls.

“Straight to Will’s room, and—” Y/N recalled, with Nancy finishing her sentence. “Don’t step on the trap, then wait for the yo-yo to move…” She then glanced to Jonathan who gestured at the lighter in hand, clicking his tongue.

“We light it up.”

“Alright, are we ready?” Jonathan glanced up, the group stood in a tense circle. They each held knives to their palms, hands trembling. The plan was simple but terrifying: lure the Demogorgon with their blood.

“On three,” Jonathan’s voice wavered, betraying his nerves. He took a shaky breath, his eyes lingering on the girls, sensing their hesitation. “You guys don’t have to do this—”

“Jonathan, stop talking.” Y/N interrupted the boy, her voice strained but firm.

“I’m just saying, you guys don’t—” Jonathan tried to argue before Nancy’s voice cut him off.

“Three!” Her sudden shout cut through the tension, sharp and decisive, like the blade they all pressed into their palms. The room erupted into a flurry of movement as they each sliced their skin, blood spilling freely from their hands.

“Holy shit—this is going to scar,” Y/N gasped, clutching her bleeding hand with her uninjured one, trying to shake off the intense, stinging pain. She watched as blood dripped down her wrist and onto her fingers, meeting the floor beneath her.

“Quick, let’s get wrapped up,” Jonathan rushed to the first-aide kit by the couch, urgency creeping into his voice. Nancy winced as she looked down at her own crimson-streaked palm, her face pale yet determined.

The group worked in silence, the eerie quiet only broken by the rustling of bandages and the occasional hiss of pain. Jonathan focused on wrapping Nancy’s hand first, his movements quick but careful. Y/N noticed how delicately he handled Nancy’s wound and the way he looked at her with soft eyes—it was hard to miss.

“Did you hear that?” Nancy asked suddenly, her voice tinged with fear as she glanced toward the window, while Y/N continued bandaging her palm.

“It’s just the wind,” Jonathan replied, though his voice lacked certainty. He kept his eyes on Nancy’s bleeding palm, trying to finish the task at hand while the girl’s gaze darted around the room, her paranoia growing with every growing second.

“Jonathan, are you sure?” Nancy’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan tried to reassure the girl, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, too. “My mom said that when it comes, the lights speak. They blink… think of them as alarms.”

Y/N nodded, but her unease was clear as she held her bandaged hand toward Jonathan. “Do you think this is tight enough?”

Jonathan glanced at her hand, noting the blood seeping through the white bandages. “Wrap it some more—”

A sudden, thunderous knock echoed through the house, cutting off Jonathan mid-sentence. The sound was so jarring that all three of them jumped, their hearts pounding wildly as they whipped their heads toward the front door. 

For a moment, they were frozen, caught between fight or flight as the reality of their situation hit them full force. A deafening silence followed the knock, each of them holding their breath, waiting for what would come next.

“Jonathan, are you there man? It’s Steve!” The boy’s voice shouted from the other side of the door, and the group looked at each other with panging confusion written all over their expressions. 

“Is Harrington seriously at my house right now?” Jonathan scoffed.

“I just want to talk!” Steve continued pounding on the front door. Y/N shook her head in frustration—mostly disbelief, glancing between Nancy and Jonathan. She stood from her seat, marching toward the front door.

Steve Harrington has the absolute worst timing ever. The door creaked open, revealing the boy. “Hey, Y/N—what are you…” Steve’s voice faltered, his eyes landing on Y/N’s figure. His usual perfect appearance was wild—his face bloodied and bruised from the fight with Jonathan, and his hair tousled and messy.

“Steve, listen to me. I’m serious. You need to leave.” Y/N’s voice was tense, her body angled to block the doorway, preventing him from seeing the chaos inside. She peeked through the crack, her bandaged hand gripping the doorframe.

“No, no—I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve pleaded, his hand resting against the doorframe, eyes wide with desperation.

“Steve,” Y/N raised her brows cautiously, “I don’t care about that. You have to leave, now.”

“No, please listen I–I messed up, okay? I messed up! I just want to make things right. Please,” Steve pleaded, but his words trailed off as his eyes landed on the girl’s bandaged hand resting on the rim of the door, blood seeping through.

“Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?” Steve’s face was etched with genuine concern, reaching out instinctively to examine the wound, but Y/N yanked her injured hand back, tucking it behind her.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. It was an accident, alright?” Y/N snapped, her patience wearing thin. 

Steve Harrington, after all he’d done—was the last person that should be wrapped up in this, and quite frankly, the last face on the entire planet Y/N wanted to see.

Steve’s brows furrowed, his concern shifting to confusion. “Wait—did Jonathan do this? Did he hurt you?” His voice wavered as his mind raced to put the pieces together. Before Y/N could respond, her words caught in her throat, and she watched as Steve’s expression hardened.

Oh shit.

“Let me in!” He demanded, shoving the door with force. Y/N tried to hold him back, but Steve’s determination overpowered her. He stumbled inside, eyes widening as he took in the chaos. His gaze landed on the bear trap, the weapons, and the mess strewn across the house. Nancy and Jonathan stood by the couch, watching the boy cautiously.

“What is all this? What the fuck…” Steve’s voice trailed off with bewilderment. He looked around, the acrid smell of gasoline filling his nose. He barely had time to react before Jonathan rushed up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“You need to get out of here!” Jonathan shouted, shaking the boy by his collar. “I’m not asking you—I’m telling you.”

But Steve Harrington’s skull was too thick to get through.

Steve jerked his arm free, glancing down at the floor with disgust. “What is that smell, is that—gasoline?” His voice wavered with disbelief. But before he could process it further, Nancy stepped forward, the sound of a gun clicking catching Steve’s attention—raised and aimed directly at him, while Y/N and Jonathan shared a stunned glance, taking a step back.

“Steve! Get out!” Nancy’s voice cut through the tension, panic edging her words. Steve’s eyes widened as he quickly raised his hands in defense, staring down the barrel of the pistol that was just a few feet away from his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, what is going on?” Steve stammered, attempting to wrap his head around the situation he found himself caught in.

“You have five seconds to get out of here!” Nancy shouted, her eyebrows furrowed together with determination.

“Okay—is this a sick joke? Put the gun down!” Steve’s voice grew louder, his hands held out in defense.

“I’m doing this for you,” Nancy raised her eyebrows at the boy. Steve’s heart thudded in his chest, his breathing heavy. 

“Nancy, seriously! What is—” But before he could finish, the lights above them flickered violently, the hum of electricity faltering. Nancy began counting down from three, with Steve pleading for the girl to stop.

“Nancy!” Jonathan’s sharp voice cut through the girl’s reverie, catching her attention. “Look at the lights!” His finger shot upwards and she followed his gaze—gasping. But Y/N didn’t waste a second. She grabbed a crowbar from the coffee table, her knuckles white as she clutched it while the others followed suit, collecting their weapons.

“Where is it?!” Y/N shouted, spinning in frantic circles as the lights flashed erratically, nearly blinding them.

“Where is what? Easy with that thing!” Steve’s erratic voice followed Y/N’s, watching her group with the others, backs against each other as she clutched her crowbar.

“I don’t see it!” Jonathan yelled out, eyes darting to every corner of the house, squinting to see through the blinding lights. “Hello?! Will someone please explain what the hell is going—” Steve screamed out frantically, demanding answers before getting cut off by a sickening crunch from above as the ceiling buckled. They were met with the horrifyingly tall figure of a monster crawling through—the Demogorgon.

Nancy didn’t hesitate. She began to fire at the monster as it hung in the ceiling through a coat of thick slime, but Jonathan grabbed her arm, dragging her back to the safety of the hallway to follow their original plan. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes flicking between her friends retreating and Steve stood frozen in place.

Without thinking, Y/N lunged toward Steve, grabbing onto the boy. Her grip was tight around his hand—double her size, yanking him down the hall as hard as she could. Steve stumbled as he was pulled away, following Y/N’s lead down the hallway—the Demogorgon screeching just behind them.

“Jump!” She shouted through the chaos as she passed the bear trap, and Steve barely registered the warning.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” He screamed, his voice raw with fear as he leaped over the trap, his hand clutching onto Y/N’s as if she were his lifeline.

They stumbled into Will’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them with a heavy thud, their hearts hammering in their chests. “Jesus Christ, what the—what the hell was that?” Steve blurted out through his ragged breath, his voice cracking with adrenaline.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan turned to face the boy, shouting in unison, their voices strained with panic. Nancy looked downward between Steve and Y/N, her eyes instantly locking onto their interlocked hands.

Steve’s breath hitched as he glanced down, suddenly noticing his hand still tightly intertwined with Y/N’s. His fingers, sweaty and trembling, lingered in hers as she shook with fear. Y/N’s heart dropped, and the sudden warmth of Steve’s touch hit her like a jolt of electricity through the panic—she quickly pulled her hand away, clutching it at her side.

Nancy hesitated before she shifted her focus to the door, weapon ready in hand—where the growling of the Demogorgon grew louder with each passing second. The floorboards outside the door creaked, and the walls seemed to tremble under the creature's weight, its shadow looming beneath the door as they held their breath.

Suddenly—the lights above stopped flickering, plunging the room into an unnerving stillness as the electricity hummed still. The relentless sounds beyond the door ceased, replaced by silence. The group let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding, attempting to ground themselves.

“Do you hear anything?” Y/N whispered, her voice barely more than a breath as she glanced between the others.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, trying to listen for any sign of the monster. He sighed heavily, the sound filled with both relief and dread. “No, nothing.”

After a few moments, Jonathan hesitated before opening the bedroom door, taking the lead with his bat readied. He peeked his head out, scanning the shadows. The others followed close behind, every creak of the floorboards underneath their feet thunderous in the silence, with each passing second becoming more and more unpredictable.

As the group cautiously entered the living room, their heads darted around as they took in the silence. The spot where the ceiling collapsed had vanished without a trace, leaving just a crack as if it were remnants of some sort of leak.

The Demogorgon was nowhere to be found.

Y/N turned around, snapping out of her thoughts to see Steve muttering to himself, “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is fucking crazy!” His brown eyes were wild with panic, hands trembling while he paced in frantic circles.

He suddenly paused, with desperation flashing in his eyes—before lunging for the Byers’ home phone mounted on the wall, his fingers fumbling to dial 911. Y/N, adrenaline coursing through her veins, stormed towards him, yanking the phone from his grip.

She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her as she forcefully chucked the wireless phone across the room, the device clattering against the wall and shattering the tense silence. Steve looked at her, stunned, his erratic breathing mirroring the chaos in his mind.

“What are you, crazy!?” Steve's voice trembled as he held out his hands, desperation and fear etched on his bruised face. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the looming threat. 

“It’s going to come back! So you need to leave, right now.” Y/N shouted, her voice laced with sternness as she fixed him with a determined stare. She watched as Steve hesitated—his eyes flickering between her, Nancy and Jonathan, and the front door.

With no words spoken, Steve made a sudden beeline toward the door, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the room. As the boy hurriedly exited the house, the rest of the group gathered close in the living room, their backs against each other, eyes darting nervously in every direction.

“Is it going to come back?” Nancy questioned, her back pressed firmly between Y/N and Jonathan’s. Before anyone could answer, the lights above them began to flicker erratically, with wild shadows dancing across the walls. 

The Christmas lights strung around the room blinked in a dizzying array of colors, their intensity almost blinding in the dimness. Tension hung heavy in the air, their hearts pounding in sync with the erratic pulsing of the lights. They took labored breaths, looking between every corner of the house the eye could spot.

“Come on, you son of a bitch!” Jonathan readied his bat, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the base.

“Where is it?!” Y/N shouted, clutching her crowbar in hand.

"I don’t see—“ Nancy's voice faltered as the electricity abruptly cut out, plunging them into pitch-black darkness, leaving the group with just a few feet of visibility in front of them. A heavy silence settled over the house, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the faint rustling of the wind outside.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she cautiously turned around, examining her surroundings with what she could see, the air thick with dread. A strange grumbling noise sounded closely, and she narrowed her eyes, focusing on the odd figure before her—until she realized what it was. 

Just in front of her loomed a monstrous figure—its grotesque, faceless visage and pallid, slimy skin, gleamed in the dim light, a chilling reminder of the imminent danger she faced just feet away. 

Y/N's sudden scream pierced the air, her terror echoing through the house as Jonathan and Nancy whipped around to the scene unfolding before them. The Demogorgon moved with quick and terrifying speed, locking onto Jonathan and tackling him to the ground, sending the boy’s bat clattering away in the chaos.

Gasping for breath, Jonathan struggled to regain his bearings as Y/N, fueled by adrenaline, swung her crowbar at the creature in a desperate attempt to help her friend. The metallic clang echoed against its ribs in the dimly lit room, and they could only watch as the monster suddenly halted its advances on the boy.

The Demogorgon turned its attention towards Y/N and Nancy—its pale, slimy skin reflecting the dim lights of the room. It stood tall and menacing, its faceless visage haunting in the darkness. Jonathan, barely conscious, could only watch helplessly from the floor as the creature slowly advanced on his friends with deliberate—almost mocking steps, its presence dreadful.

“Nancy, do something…” Y/N’s voice shook, backing up cautiously beside her friend. 

She watched in the corner of her eye as Nancy raised the pistol she held in hand, aiming the firearm at the monster. Its face opened up, revealing the horrifying sight of a shape almost like a flower blooming underneath its flesh—with slimy and thin sharp teeth covering every inch beneath its skin. “Go to hell, you son of a bitch!” Nancy screamed as she pulled the trigger, the room lighting up with each round that went off. Gunshots echoed through the house, but dread filled inside them as the bullets had no effect—the monster’s skin was too thick. It kept advancing, making slow steps toward the pair. Nancy fired again, each step backward more frantic, desperately hoping the bullets would make some kind of difference until an empty click sounded. Heart racing, she fumbled to reload, only to realize she was out of bullets.

Their backs met the wall behind them, defenseless, only able to watch as the Demogorgon inched closer. Its rancid, deathlike stench filled the air, horrifying their senses. Y/N shut her eyes tightly, her breath hitching as the creature's growl rumbled just inches away. Suddenly, a hard shove sent her sprawling to the floor, landing on the back of her head harshly. She looked up, heart pounding, only to be met with the faceless monster towering above her—her mouth forming into a silent scream.

Her body trembled as dread settled into her bones, each shallow breath scraping her lungs, desperate and thin. Time seemed to slow into eternity as she stared at death just inches away from her face—the monster’s foul breath fanning across her skin, with thick, wet slime dripping off its mouth, splattering on her forehead. Her fingers clawed at the floor, searching for something—anything, to save her. 

The only thing she felt was the cold certainty that this was it.

A guttural grunt broke through the tension, snapping Y/N back to the present as a heavy thwack echoed off the Demogorgon’s thick skin. In a blur, the monster above her shifted its attention and she gasped—barely able to process the sight above her. Steve Harrington, breathing hard—eyes blazing with something between terror and fury stood before her, ready to take on the monster. 

Steve Harrington had just saved her life. 

The boy’s movements were much different than a few moments ago when he had scrambled out of the house in an escape—his body now ready to fight. Y/N could only watch as he dodged and weaved the Demogorgon’s relentless attacks, each move a desperate dance for survival.

With every opening, he swung the bat Jonathan had dropped, the wood and nails cracking against the monster's slimy skin. He drove it back, blow after blow, the force reverberating up his arms. The Demogorgon stumbled into the hallway, Steve’s strikes landing on its stomach, doubling it over. With a final, powerful swing, he forced it into the bear trap with a resounding snap.

“He’s in the trap!”

Nancy rushed to Jonathan, who was still recovering on the floor, urging him to get up and offered her hand to help. Steve quickly shuffled over from the hall to Y/N’s side, grabbing her hand and helping her up from the ground as she trembled. 

“You okay?” The boy was quick to ask, his eyes examining the girl as he delicately held her steady by her waist.

“I think so,” She breathed, nodding, ignoring the sting on the back of her head as she shifted her attention to her friends in the hall standing before the Demogorgon—preparing to finally kill the damn thing.

They watched the creature thrash around wildly in the bear trap, writhing against the jagged metal. Without wasting a second, Steve and Y/N rushed into the hallway. Jonathan fumbled in his pockets, pulling out a lighter. With a flick, he ignited it, then hurled it toward the monster, flames catching instantly on the trail of gasoline leading to the trapped beast.

The entire hall erupted into flames, the roar of the fire deafening. Heat blasted into their faces, singeing their skin and filling the air with the acrid smell of burning. The group shielded their eyes from the intense light, watching in horror as the Demogorgon writhed within the flames, its agonizing shrieks piercing the air.

Jonathan bolted from the hall and returned with a fire extinguisher, dousing the flames. A thick, white fog enveloped the hall, causing them to cough and squint against the harsh chemical mist. As the smoke cleared, they cautiously approached the bear trap in the charred hall, hearts pounding. The monster had disappeared, and no trace of it was left in the trap.

“Where the hell did it go?” Nancy’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

“It has to be dead—it has to be,” Jonathan panted, his eyes frantically scanning the space where the monster had been.

“Jesus—do you think it just melted into the fire or something?” Y/N grimaced, looking at leftovers of rancid skin melting on the trap’s metal. Suddenly, the Christmas lights hanging above them began to flicker to life softly, a section at a time toward the group as if something was walking in their direction. 

Everyone’s heart stopped, the question lingering in their mind whether the monster had survived on the other side. They backed up cautiously as the light slowly approached them, but something was different about it—the energy was calmer.

“Do you think that’s it?” Steve questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I—I don’t know, it seems…” Jonathan tried to find the right words, stuttering slightly. “Different.” Y/N finished the boy's sentence. The lights then continued and crossed over the group’s heads, a trail of electricity lighting up toward the front door. They followed the light outside on the porch, watching a street light in the distance flicker off and on as they caught their breath, slight relief filling the air around them.

“Where’s it going?” Nancy murmured, watching the faint light in the distance.

“I don’t think that’s the monster.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as the group shared uneasy glances.

Realization dawned on Y/N, her eyes widening. “Hopper and Joyce.” 

Nancy turned to her, concern etched on her expression. “Do you think they’ve found Will?” 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Y/N sighed, letting out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding.

After a few moments of silence, the group began to retreat inside the house, but Y/N lingered on the porch. She gripped the railing and let her nerves settle, attempting to ground herself. Nancy and Jonathan made it inside, but Steve hesitated—pausing in front of the doorway, concern flickering in his eyes.

“You coming inside?” Steve’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant as Y/N stood on the edge of the porch, her gaze fixed on the shadowed woods. Her back was to him, shoulders tense, a slight tremble betraying her steady stance.

“Y/N?” he murmured, resting a firm but careful hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

Y/N turned slowly, wiping at her eyes. For a fleeting moment, Steve thought he’d caught her crying—but then he saw the spark of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. She knows she shouldn’t, it’s absurd—but she couldn’t help it. Steve blinked, then found himself chuckling too, shaking his head. 

"Holy shit! I can't believe Steve Harrington just saved my life from a fucking monster!" Y/N exclaimed, her laughter infectious as her nervous system took over.

Steve smirked, looking out into the dark. "Oh boy, what would you do without me?” He muttered, shaking his head as he leaned against the porch frame beside her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, still grinning. “Guess I’d be a goner,” she replied, shoving her hands in her pockets. But as her laughter faded, a quiet settled between them, and she found herself glancing at him, studying the faint bruises and scratches on his face. "Didn’t think you’d come back, honestly.”

He could feel Y/N’s eyes on him. “Honestly, I didn’t think I would either,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw the lights flickering in the house… I was frozen. Part of me wanted to run, to save myself.” He paused, furrowing his eyebrows together as he softly shook his head.

“But then I thought about all of you inside. I guess it was finally time to stop thinking about myself for once.” He met Y/N’s eyes, hoping she could see the sincerity in his words.

“I get it, actually,” Y/N spoke, and Steve glanced at her, surprised. “You saved my life, Steve. I don’t know how to thank you for that. I know it’s not easy—showing up like this. Especially when people don’t expect it of you.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh. “I mean… everyone’s got me pegged as this guy, right? King Steve,” he quotes, “the guy who throws parties, dates pretty girls, and looks good doing it. No one asks for more, and it’s easier to just… live up to it,” He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“But I’m tired of everyone acting like they know me better than I know myself, especially my old man. Maybe if I look good enough on the outside, it’ll cover up all the other shit, y’know?” He spoke as he fidgeted with his hands.

Y/N’s gaze softened, her own expression guarded. “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one who’s had to play pretend.”

Steve looked at her, his curiosity piqued, and she hesitated before going on. “After my mom died, my dad was never himself again. He… wasn’t the type you’d want around. So, I learned early on that letting people in only gets you hurt.”

“Sounds familiar, but that’s not always true,” Steve murmured, their eyes locking in a long, weighted silence. After a moment, Y/N broke it, her tone soft but genuine. “For what it’s worth, you’re not so bad after all, Harrington.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not too shabby yourself, Smith,” he replied, a small smile creeping onto his face as they leaned against the porch frame, earning a chuckle from the girl.

“Friends?” Steve straightened up, turning to face Y/N, his hand outstretched with a hopeful expression.

“Friends,” Y/N nodded, meeting his gaze as she took his hand in a firm shake. Y/N was grateful she finally got to see him—not Steve “the asshole” Harrington and most definitely not Steve “the king” Harrington.

Just Steve.

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥

The moment the teens arrived at the hospital after receiving word Will was rescued, Jonathan was the first to sprint inside, rushing to ask reception where his little brother was. He was the only one who could see Will being immediate family, so the others retreated to the waiting room.

Nancy was the first to rush inside when she spotted her family, with Mike running from his seat and colliding into her embrace, almost knocking the girl down. “What happened?” Nancy held the boy’s shoulders, watching as his lips quivered and tears filled his eyes.

“El…” He looked up at his sister, until she pulled him into another tight embrace, holding the back of his head in an attempt to comfort him. The look in his eyes said it all—Eleven was gone.

The girl who helped them find Will was gone. That stung at Y/N’s heart—she’d only met her briefly, but she knew someone that young didn’t deserve what she went through. It wasn’t fair.

“We should go sit, yeah?” Steve’s voice broke through Y/N’s focus, gesturing toward the empty seats in the waiting room, his voice gentle. The girl nodded absently, before scanning the room once more—her heart plummeting to her feet. Hopper was nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway behind her. She turned, her heart leaping as she recognized the man. It was the Chief of Police—Hopper, approaching with a weary but relieved expression. “Hey, kiddo,” he spoke softly, his eyes filled with relief at the sight of the girl.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and without hesitation she made quick, raced steps toward the man, her footsteps echoing in the corridor. She collided with Hopper, wrapping her arms around him tightly, as if he were her lifeline.

"I was so scared," she whispered, her voice slightly trembling.

Hopper held the girl close, his own emotions threatening to swell within him. "It's okay, I'm right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere, kid." He reassured her, his hand holding the back of Y/N’s head. They stood there, holding each other—grateful to find each other in one piece.

Y/N didn’t know what she would do if she lost him.

Suddenly, voices broke the stillness from inside the waiting room. “Guys, guys! He’s awake! Will’s awake!” Mike shouted, excitement spilling from him as he gathered his friends. Y/N pulled back from Hopper and watched as they bolted from their seats past her, turning a corner and sprinting to Will’s room. 

She was beyond grateful the boy was okay. Though the guilt still lingered in the back of her mind—if she had stayed with Will, and insisted on biking him home, none of this would have happened. No one would be hurt.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Nancy suddenly brushed past her. She looked pale and fragile, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she hurried down the hall. Y/N glanced at Hopper, then at her friend disappearing around the corner.

“I’ll go check on her,” she murmured, concern pulling her forward.

Hopper gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be in the waiting room, kid.”

Y/N nodded, then followed after Nancy, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. She rounded the corner just in time to see the girl heading toward the restrooms. Before Nancy could slip inside, Y/N called out gently, “Nancy?”

The girl turned around, her expression bitter and eyebrows knit together. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked gently, her arms crossing over her chest as she studied her friend’s face.

Nancy hesitated, her eyes flickering away from her friend’s. “Yeah, it’s just…” she trailed off, pausing. “I wish Barb were here, too,” she finally admitted, her voice trembling. The words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the friend they had lost. 

Barb was gone. 

Y/N’s chest tightened, feeling the ache behind Nancy’s words. “Me too. I’m so sorry,” she said softly, stepping closer. She unfolded her arms, reaching out to pull Nancy into a comforting embrace. They held each other in silence, Nancy clinging tightly, as if afraid to let go of the last person who could understand her loss.

After a long moment, Nancy pulled back, her eyes clouded with guilt. She looked down, unable to meet Y/N’s gaze. “It was my fault,” she whispered, almost as if admitting it to herself.

“Nancy—” Y/N began, ready to reassure her, that she didn’t deserve to take on that kind of guilt. But Nancy shook her head, cutting her off.

“You don’t understand,” she continued, her voice thick with regret. “Steve invited us to a party. I didn’t want to go alone, so I… I made Barb come with me. I thought it would be fun—just one night.” She bit her lip, voice wavering. 

“But then… I ditched her. I ditched her to be with him, and I didn’t even realize she was gone until it was too late.” Her hand covered her mouth as she finished her sentence, as if speaking it made the guilt unbearable.

Y/N processed Nancy’s words, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Nancy had never mentioned going to parties with Steve, much less bringing Barb along. She took a breath, her voice gentle but tinged with hurt. “Nancy… why didn’t you tell me?”

Nancy finally met her gaze, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Because I left her alone. I was supposed to be her friend, and I just… left her.” She paused, her eyebrows knit together. “I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself for that.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in the back of her throat. She could see the guilt etched on Nancy’s face, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly as she held back tears. What could she say to ease that kind of pain? Nothing felt right, nothing seemed enough.

An uneasy silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Finally, Nancy dropped her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need a minute.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving Y/N standing alone in the empty hall.

Her stomach twisted. She knew Nancy’s pain, understood that kind of guilt—and hated there was nothing she could do to ease it. Losing someone like that wasn’t a wound that healed, it was the kind that lingered, carving a mark that would stay with a person forever.

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

Soft snow fell gently over Hawkins, blanketing the trees in pristine white. The night had settled in, bringing a cold chill that lingered in the crisp winter air. Christmas lights and decorations adorned neighborhood houses, bringing the holiday spirit. Jonathan and Y/N arrived at the Wheeler’s for a quick hello, and to pick up Will.

The harsh chill bit at Y/N underneath her jacket, and she folded her arms for warmth as Jonathan knocked on the front door. After a moment, Mrs. Wheeler greeted them, her face lighting up in a broad smile. “Jonathan! Y/N! Merry Christmas, come in!” Her voice was warm and familiar, instantly making them feel at home.

The pair thanked Mrs. Wheeler as they stepped inside, the warm air greeting them as they brushed snow off their jackets. Jonathan made light footsteps past the kitchen toward the basement to retrieve Will, but Y/N lingered at the entrance of the home, hesitating. She glanced inside the kitchen, seeing Mrs. Wheeler’s baked Christmas goods made with love. 

The girl took in a deep breath before treading toward the basement. As she turned a corner, about to follow Jonathan's path, she nearly bumped into Steve, who had appeared in the hallway. His hands were tucked awkwardly in his pockets, and he looked as though he'd been waiting for her. "Hey," he said, voice low.

“Hey,” Y/N breathed, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Truth is, ever since Will had been brought back home, nothing had been the same between any of them.

A few weeks after Will returned home, Y/N had been certain that Jonathan and Nancy would get together, though it never happened. She wasn't entirely sure why, there were a countless amount of reasons—but she saw how it crushed the boy when he and Y/N spotted Nancy and Steve making out in the school hallway, almost as if nothing bad had ever happened.

And Y/N would be lying if she said it didn't crush something in her, too. Steve and Nancy looked happy, sure. Happy in a way that made her feel both relieved and, unexpectedly—a little hollow. 

“I, uh, never got the chance to thank you—for what you said. That day in the alley, you know, the fight with Jonathan.” Steve tumbled over his words as he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at Y/N who gave a tight smile.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, swallowing. “I’m really glad everything worked out for you, Steve.” 

An awkward silence stretched between them, neither of them quite knowing how to bridge the gap. Finally, Y/N cleared her throat, stepping away. "I should probably get going," she muttered, turning to wait for Jonathan and Will at the front door.

But before she could leave, Steve’s voice stopped her.

“Y/N?” He called out, stopping her in her tracks. She paused, glancing back at him.

"I'm... sorry," he began, his voice steady but filled with sincerity. “For everything. I shouldn’t have broken Jonathan’s camera, and I shouldn’t have said those things back in the alley. I was wrong.” His words hung in the air, and when Y/N met his gaze, she saw something genuine in his eyes, just like that night at the Byers house.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is King Steve realizing he might not be a king after all?” She teased, watching with amusement as he winced at the nickname, waving her off.

"Please, don’t call me that," he groaned, rolling his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "And, uh, Carol and Tommy? Yeah, they turned out to be real assholes." 

Y/N shrugged, her tone light but knowing. “You were an asshole, Steve Harrington.” She pointed a finger at the boy’s chest, before giving him a slight, playful shove.

Steve’s shoulders slumped slightly as he gave a small, regretful shrug. “I guess we all were, and I’m sorry.” Y/N’s lips curved into a grin as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. “Apology accepted.”

Steve nodded, the corners of his mouth pulling into a small, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said quietly, his tone almost shy.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she replied, her smile lingering for a moment longer before she turned, heading for the front door—giving the boy one last glance over her shoulder.

As Y/N made her way past the kitchen with the scent of Mrs. Wheeler's baked goods filling the air, she spotted Jonathan and Will waiting near the front door. She was about to continue when Nancy suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, a neatly-wrapped gift clutched tightly to her chest.

"Jonathan, wait up!" Nancy called out, her voice urgent as she hurried down the stairs toward him.

She stopped in front of Jonathan, a bright, warm smile spreading across her face. "Merry Christmas," she said, holding out the neatly wrapped gift to him. Jonathan hesitated, looking from the gift to her, his fingers brushing the wrapping before he took it, still unsure.

"Thanks, but—I didn’t get you anything. I feel bad," he admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he looked down at the gift in his hands.

Nancy waved it off with a soft laugh. "No, it’s not really a present," she said, her tone light as she shrugged. "It’s… well, you’ll see."

Jonathan's brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face as he glanced at the gift in his hands, unsure what she meant. Before he could respond, Nancy stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his chest. She leaned in and pressed a quick, unexpected kiss to his cheek. Jonathan blinked, his face flushing deeper as he pulled back slightly—caught off guard by the gesture.

Y/N took a quiet step forward, her presence breaking the tension. She met Nancy’s gaze as she stood beside Jonathan, offering a small, awkward smile. Her eyes flickered briefly between the pair before cutting through the silence. “Merry Christmas, Nancy.”

“Merry Christmas. I’ll see you guys later,” She gave a small smile before walking off toward the living room, sharing one last glance with Jonathan. He then looked toward Y/N and Will with a slight blush left on his cheeks, “you guys ready?”

Inside Jonathan’s car, Y/N sat in the back seat, her arms wrapped tightly around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill that crept in through the windows as the car warmed up, with a soft, steady snowfall creeping outside. Will sat in the passenger seat, his gaze darting between Jonathan and the small present nestled in his lap.

“I’ll drop you back off at Hopper’s, Y/N. We all buckled up?” Jonathan asked, his voice warm despite the cold.

Y/N nodded, offering him a grateful smile. “That sounds good, thank you.” Her eyes lingered on Jonathan for a moment, meeting his gaze with a flicker of appreciation before he turned back to the steering wheel and started the engine.

“Yep,” Will chimed in from the front seat, giving a quick nod. Then, his curiosity got the best of him, and he turned to the gift. “Can I open it?”

Jonathan grinned, a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, sure.”

Will eagerly tore into the wrapping, his fingers quick and excited. As the paper fell away, the box inside was revealed—a brand-new, latest edition camera. He held it out so Jonathan could see, glancing at him with an awestruck smile. “Pretty cool,” The boy beamed, admiring the gadget.

Jonathan and Y/N exchanged knowing a look, both of them knowing exactly where it had come from.

Steve Harrington. 

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

As Jonathan’s car slowed to a stop outside Hopper’s trailer, Y/N pulled her jacket tightly around herself, bracing against the chilly night air. Snow was still falling, blanketing the ground and trees in white. The lake once flowing with water was now frozen solid. She thanked Jonathan, wishing him and Will a good night before closing the door softly behind her.

As Y/N entered the trailer, the warmth greeted her immediately, the fireplace crackling to life in the living room. There were a few holiday decorations Hopper had put up with Y/N, and a small Christmas tree lighting up the corner of the room. Hopper was sitting on the couch, his expression somber but soft, as if he’d been waiting for her. Y/N slipped off her coat, hanging it by the door, before approaching him.

“Hey, kid,” Hopper greeted her, his voice low, a hint of something weighing on it.

“Hey, Hopper,” she replied, offering him a faint smile as she took the seat across from him.

After a pause, the man cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but... Well, it’s been busy. So... I got some news.”

Y/N felt anxiety creep in the pit of her chest, settling itself inside her as she sat across from Hopper. If this was what she thought it was about, she had been pushing down the sickening thought for months. The anticipation gnawed at her. “News about...?”

“Your father,” Hopper said gently, watching the girl carefully.

Y/N’s breath caught in the back of her throat, her chest tightening. They’d been waiting to hear something since the court hearing. The silence from her father—Thomas, had been telling, but still, she’d clung to the hope that he’d at least care enough to reach out. 

She didn’t know what she would do if she had to go back to live with her father—knowing it would only be a certain amount of time before he snapped again and lost another job and they moved far away from Hawkins, a place where she had found a home, repeating the endless cycle once more.

He was still her father after all, but she was starting to wonder if maybe—just maybe, she could belong somewhere else—somewhere far away from him.

Hopper cleared his throat, breaking through the heavy silence settled between them. “He didn’t show up to the court hearing today.” 

Y/N’s heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Her father, ultimately, just let her go to the state. No explanation—didn’t show up for her, like she hadn’t even mattered. “What?”

Hopper watched her, his face gentle with understanding. “Listen, I know that’s hard to hear. It’s a hell of a thing someone could do.”

“Yeah, it’s just...” Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I thought he’d at least try, you know? I guess... I just hoped maybe he’d want me.”

Hopper’s expression softened further, a sadness in his eyes that mirrored hers. “Sometimes people are like that. Selfish. They don’t do what’s right, even when it’s right in front of them. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worth more than he could ever understand.”

Y/N’s lips trembled. She couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Listen, kiddo. I can pull a few strings, and keep you here as long as I can while you’re in custody of the state since your father didn’t show.” Hopper began, pausing as he observed the utter defeat etched on Y/N’s expression.

She didn’t want to leave this all behind—she couldn’t.

"And while you’re here,” Hopper continued, adjusting himself on the couch, rubbing his hand absently over his mustache, “we could talk about something more… permanent. Maybe adoption, if that’s something you’d want.”

"Adoption?" Y/N repeated, the word barely a whisper, her gaze meeting Hopper’s. 

“Yeah, kid.” Hopper gave the girl a warm smile—one that didn’t show itself too often. “And that’s if you’re comfortable with it, and of course, it’ll take time for both of us to think about it. Sound good to you?”

Y/N took a breath, feeling something in her chest finally settle. "That sounds… really good," she breathed, a genuine smile breaking through the uncertainty.

“I’m glad,” Hopper grinned through his mustache, leaning forward as he ruffled Y/N’s hair, his large hand playfully tousling it until she let out a small laugh, swatting his hand away before he spoke. “There’s something else I’ll fill you in on, too. Good news.”

Y/N glanced at him as she fixed her hair, trying to flatten down the frizz. “What is it?”

Hopper exhaled, glancing around as though to make sure they were really alone. “I’ve... been looking into a few things lately. Some sightings and rumors—small, but there might be something there,” he paused. “It’s about El.”

“El?” Y/N’s eyes widened. 

Eleven. The girl who had saved them all, the one they’d thought was gone forever.

Hopper nodded. “Nothing’s for sure. But, I’ve got a feeling she might still be out there… hanging on.”

And Y/N hoped he was right. It tugged at her heart. After everything Eleven had done for everyone—what she’d been through at her age… the girl deserved a second chance at life. It wasn’t fair.

"And you know... how have your dreams been, kid?" Hopper snapped Y/N out of thought, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

They hadn't exactly stopped, but they were better than the last few months, especially when everything was going on.

"Haven't been having very many lately," Y/N shrugged, "so it's been fine."

“Good. Guess we should call it a night, huh?” Hopper said finally, giving a tired stretch, his arms rising above his head. “Can’t be staying up all night waiting on miracles.”

Y/N chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She stood, brushing her hands against her jeans before glancing out the window where the snow continued to fall, blanketing the trailer in quiet white.

Hopper moved to stand by her, looking out into the dark, peaceful night. After a moment, he opened his arms in a rare invitation, his voice softening. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

Y/N looked up at him, a small smile spreading across her face as she stepped into his embrace. “Merry Christmas, Hopper.”

The truth is, nothing would be the same again. Y/N knew that. Between her life being at stake, and discovering monsters and superpowers are real against all odds—she didn’t need to ask for anything else. All she needed was right here, these people, in this town.

Maybe Hawkins wasn’t too terrible after all.

────────────────────────────────────────────

worlds apart navigation previous chapter

taglist: @anqelically @cupofjoekeery @steviespookie @hailqueenconquer @just-tiredman @x-theolivia @fuckshitslover @uselessnewt @kitdjarin1 @newyorkangelbaby

[artgroves]

young Joyce and Jim Hopper for what a lucky man he was by @nnocres

for @strangerthingsreversebigbang

[flowercrowngods]

It’s obnoxious, the way Munson sits on the table, legs swinging a little too fast, a little too much purpose behind the motion. Steve zeroes in on it, the movement of his thighs, black denim pulled tight in one second, then going loose the next. It’s hypnotising. Mesmerising. Calming, in a weird sort of way.

“So,” Eddie drawls the word, again with too much purpose, and all this sudden purpose Eddie spills around him so carelessly like he expects Steve to know what to do with it, with him, with himself, is overwhelming and frustrating. It takes him out of his hypnosis. His eyes snap to Munson’s, and he’s reeling a little too much still to know what it is Eddie will find on his face now.

Whatever it is, it makes him still. He quiets down. Everything about him is gone so suddenly it makes Steve blink hard, trying to regain his footing and not think about how gone Eddie really is. A while from now. In a different dimension. Bloodied and pale and so, so still.

The world fades a little bit, or maybe it’s just Steve who does, but something fades. It gets a little easier to hear, so long as he doesn’t have to be or feel or react.

Maybe this was a mistake.

“You don’t usually buy from me,” Eddie says through the cotton-like fog, and Steve zeroes in again. “You don’t usually buy, period.”

It’s like the guy is trying to read Steve. He lets him. He’s sort of dying to find out something real about him anyway.

“But that changed, hasn’t it? Breaking up with Wheeler got you bad, eh?”

Steve feels the frown on his face before he can think to react, and he shakes his head — against the accusation and against the images in his head, against the guilt, against the knowledge that Nancy is dead and he isn’t, and that she died a hero and that he wouldn’t. Ever. He’ll just die a coward.

“No? Alright, big guy, whatever you say, but don’t think I don’t remember finding you the other day cracked outta your mind so hard you couldn’t even walk anymore, and when I came back because I’m nice like that, you were gone. That’s not being sober, that’s not very never doing drugs of you if you ask me.”

For a second there, Steve had forgotten just how much he really doesn’t like Eddie Munson. The guy’s a nuisance and just really, really annoying.

But this is also the longest anyone has spoken to Steve since— since before. And there’s something addictive about it.

Maybe he doesn’t need the drugs. Maybe he just needs someone to talk to him like he’s a real person.

But Eddie’s still staring at him, still trying to figure him out, and Steve knows he should move, he should fidget, probably, or run his hand through his hair and lose the haze that veils his eyes and crack a smirk at Eddie and just. Do anything that a real person would do.

But he can’t. He can only stand, only stare, only catch a thought or two as they race by him at record speed and hope desperately that the thought isn’t Eddie, his pale skin ripping open with lethal wounds, his voice gurgling as he chokes on his own blood and doesn’t even have the strength to cough anymore.

His hands are shaking. That’s something real at least.

“Hey, woah, shit, there’s no need to— God, man, it’s cool, we’re cool, I won’t tell anyone or some shit, you gotta— Harrington, you gotta calm down.”

Eddie’s off the table in record speed, bringing some distance between them but still looking like he wants to approach Steve with raised hands.

“I’m calm,” he says, not understanding.

“You’re having a fuck-damn panic attack or something, man.”

What? No, he doesn’t— Oh.

“Oh.”

He’s on the floor, and his cheeks are wet. He can’t breathe. His brain doesn’t even catch up, his body

“Yeah, fucking oh, man. It’s cool, you’re, uh, you’re safe? I mean. I’m safe? I won’t tell. I’ll give you what you need if this is your withdrawal, I don’t wanna— Shit, man, what the fuck.”

Eddie is freaking out. It’s surreal. Steve has no idea if he’s still panicking. He must be, because he can’t feel his hands. He’s getting dizzy and his chest hurts. It’s okay. It’ll pass.

“It’s okay,” he says, knowing somehow that his voice shouldn’t sound like this. He’s not a real person anyway. “You can go if you wanna.”

Eddie shakes his head, bewildered, absolute disbelief in every one of his features, so loud even in his silence, and Steve prefers this. The obnoxious loudness. Even when he says nothing.

“What the fuck, Harrington.”

It’s all he says before approaching him, sitting down right opposite Steve, knees drawn to his chest in a mirror position, their feet’s almost touching. Eddie looks scared. Or worried.

Steve frowns. There’s no air in his lungs to ask, though, and he remembers that he needs to breathe. Feels that his lungs are screaming for it and that somewhere beneath the fog and the cotton, his brain is screaming at him, his body clawing at its confines to break free and breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie decides, looking at him so intensely, Steve feels somehow invited to look back. To look as long as he can, before he sort of stops processing anything again and tries not to remember how Eddie looks when he knows he’s about to die.

Those terrified eyes trained on him. They have seen nothing yet.

Eddie starts talking at some point — running his mouth, really, but Steve can’t hear him. It’s nice, though. He finds himself staring up at the darkening sky at some point, his head nestled on cold, wet leaves and damp soil. Eddie’s still talking, still looking at him. Steve tries not to panic that he lost it again, that the day has somehow passed without him.

He looks over, meeting Eddie’s eyes, and catching something that looks like a relieved smile as he stumbles over his words and then stops altogether.

“Hey,” is what he settles on at last.

Steve smiles, a frail little thing, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.

“Thank you,” he says. And then, because he’s speaking and there’s no fog this time and no blood and no screams, he keeps talking. “For this. And, uh, for that night, y’know, where you wanted to help me. You did, actually, I was just… I never thanked you. So, yeah. Thanks.”

Eddie shrugs, and it’s a little awkward with the angle he’s looking at Steve at. “I didn’t really do shit.”

“You did more than you know,” Steve says, and that’s when the blood comes back. The screams. The fog and the emptiness and the hollow feeling in his chest where he knows there once resided the feeling of It’s going to be okay.

Eddie pauses, and Steve fades. He asks something, but Steve can’t hear him. He gets up, knowing that if he won’t, he’ll stay here all night. Turn into a tree again. Be nothing at all.

He walks away, leaving Eddie behind, and in the parking lot he finds Hopper’s car, the engine running, and then his cheeks are wet again.

Hopper pulls him into a hug, and Steve leans into it. Wants to tell him that he’s fine, that he’s not a tree, that he’s not a person either but something in between but that he’s okay and sorry for worrying him. But the words don’t come, and it is what it is.

“Munson okay?” Hopper asks when Steve pulls away from their embrace, and something about Hopper knowing exactly what to ask him is so vulnerable. But it makes him feel good, too. Like he’s not dumb for it. For the way he’s checking up on them. On all of them. Even Eddie.

“He’s fine.”

“Good,” Hop says, starting the engine. “There’s pasta for dinner.”

[girlrandomstuff]

i was just coming to cry about (this) fictional father&daughter relationships, you just don't get it, they mean so much to me i can't even articulate

[whynotimtired]

There's something so crushing about the theory that Hopper is actually Will's father, and it truly is the Jonathan of it all. Imagine Jonathan finding out and thinking what? really? For a split second before realizing that no, it's not both of them. That would be crazy. It's just Will. Of course it's just Will.

[ohnoaspiderbite]

gonna post this on my st blog too because it involves both.... if spider!will is canon bc of the multiverse... and a canon event is a police figure/officer dying... would hopper's death be canon in that au?

[sapphicslut777]

if i had a mom like joyce byers or a dad like jim hopper (or any dad at all tbh) i would never complain about anything ever again

[neganwifey25-blog]

😮‍💨😩😭

‘Badges Of Honor’ from Chief Hopper

I said in my jealous!Hopper headcanon that I could do another one just about him marking you and I finally did it, as requested by anon. This is all about hickeys and bruises, with mentions of pain kink, spanking, biting, and bondage. Turn back now if that’s not your thing. NSFW language, obviously, but nothing graphically detailed.

 The first time Jim Hopper gave you a hickey was pretty soon after you started seeing each other. His warm, wet mouth latched onto your neck felt so damn good that never for a second did your mind allow the thought to occur to you that he would leave a souvenir behind. Upon discovering it the next day, you were annoyed and genuinely unsure if he had done it on purpose or by accident. It was almost embarrassing for you as an adult to have something so juvenile and vulgar in a place where everyone could so clearly see. When you confronted him about it, he laughed at you. “What? That little thing? That’s a badge of honor right there. Now everyone will know that you’re mine.” You gave a sigh of exasperation but secretly you were delighted by his reaction. Ever since then, that is what he has called all of the marks he’s left on you, “badges of honor”.

Keep reading

[hangon-silvergirl]

stranger things + shirts that go hard (+)

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

summary: you thought you lost nancy, and you've supposedly figured out what's causing your nightmares. also, hopper is apparently interested in conspiracies about children with telekinesis, wonder where that one will go! while you're shopping for supplies to go monster hunting with nancy and jon, you run into the one and only: steve harrington, who sucks at relationships, and you can guess how that one ends. hopper finally finds out you've been tracking down a monster, and you've concluded everyone is absolutely terrible at keeping secrets!

The boy coldly looked down at Nancy, then shifted his hardened gaze to Y/N standing beside her. “And you, Smith, find some better friends. You’re better than a perv and a cheater.”  Y/N’s jaw clenched, but she kept her voice steady. “You know what’s funny?” She called after him as he began to walk away, her voice sharp. Steve stopped in his tracks, turning to face her, waiting for her to speak. “I didn’t even know you and Nancy were dating. Hell, I never saw you act like it.” Steve locked eyes with Y/N, waiting for the girl to get to her point. “I also know cheating applies to flirting with other girls while you’re in a relationship, Harrington. Get some fucking self-respect.”

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, fist fighting, mentions of nightmares, and steve harrington sucks at relationships

word count: 8.2k

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The moonlight shined through the trees overhead, casting a gentle blue hue. The forest seemed to close in around Y/N and Jonathan as they raced through the trees with their hearts pounding in their chests. Y/N’s flashlight cut through the oppressive darkness, its beam darting from tree to tree, searching—praying for a sign, desperation growing with each step.

She couldn’t lose Nancy too.

“Nancy!” Y/N desperately shouted for the missing girl, making rushed steps through the dark forest.

"Nancy!" Jonathan’s voice strained after Y/N’s as it echoed through the trees, the urgency clear in his tone. The silence that followed gnawed at Y/N’s nerves, and her pulse quickened as they followed their tracks back to where Nancy was before they split up. Then, something flickered in the distance—something out of place. "There," Y/N pointed ahead, her voice barely above a whisper as she spotted the sight of a tree with Nancy's belongings scattered at its base. Jonathan’s head snapped in its direction, and they both sprinted toward it, skidding to a halt as their flashlights illuminated the scene.

It wasn't the belongings that caught their attention—it was the gaping hole in the trunk, like a bright wound torn open in the bark, making Y/N’s blood run cold. 

It was just like the one she had seen in her nightmare.

“Nancy!” Y/N screamed out, desperately now, only to be met with silence—the breeze whispering through the trees as if mocking their efforts.

“Y/N?!” Nancy’s voice suddenly screeched back, echoing through the dark forest—except she was nowhere to be found, her voice faint in the breeze.

“Follow our voices!” Jonathan shouted, kneeling in front of the tree, looking into the gaping portal with desperation growing in every inch of his body, searching for any sign of the girl.

“Nancy!” Y/N's shout pierced through the forest, calling out for the girl. “Where the hell is she?” Y/N's eyes darted around the trees, not spotting Nancy anywhere—despite her voice being so close.

She then knelt beside Jonathan in front of the tree and shined the beam of her flashlight into it, getting a closer look. They examined the hole in the tree, it gaped like torn-open flesh in the trunk, with the faintest glowing orange pulse coming from the inside of it. 

“What the...?” Jonathan whispered, his voice trembling. Y/N’s flashlight flickered over the dark, slick surface of the portal as she moved closer, hypnotized by the sight. She swallowed hard, her fingers itching to touch the strange, otherworldly portal.

“Don’t—” Jonathan protested as he reached for her arm, but before he could stop her, Y/N's fingertips already grazed the slick surface. 

Suddenly—a hand burst forth from the depths of the portal. Y/N screamed, stumbling backward, her heart lurching into her throat as she and Jonathan fell back to the ground in shock. Their flashlights flickered wildly, casting long, distorted shadows across the forest floor.

"Help!" Nancy's desperate scream echoed through the darkness of the woods, crying out. Y/N stared at the slick, pale hand that now protruded from the portal, her chest heaving.

“Jonathan, help me!” She scrambled forward, clutching Nancy's hand as she desperately tried to pull her friend back to safety. The cold, slimy texture sent a shiver down her spine, but she held on tight, refusing to let go.

Together, Y/N and Jonathan pulled with every ounce of strength they could muster, their hands trembling as they fought against the strange, resistant pull of the portal. Nancy’s cries grew louder, more desperate—as her upper body began to emerge from the depths of the twisted tree, covered in the thick slime.

“Come on, Nancy!” Jonathan’s voice was hoarse, his knuckles turning white as he gripped Nancy’s arm. 

Y/N’s muscles burned, her fingers slipping against the thick layer of slime coating Nancy’s skin, but she refused to let go. Her face strained, squeezing her eyes shut as her brows furrowed together. With a final, strained pull, Nancy came tumbling out of the portal, crashing into their arms as they collapsed together on the forest floor.

For a moment, none of them spoke, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Nancy clung to them, trembling uncontrollably, her face pale and her eyes wide with terror. Y/N pulled her closer, wrapping her arms even tighter around her friend, her heart pumping out of her chest with adrenaline.

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as she stroked her friend’s slick hair. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”

Nancy’s breath hitched as she tried to steady herself, clinging to her friends as if they were her lifeline. As Y/N and Jonathan held onto Nancy, they faced the tree she came out of—watching in stunned silence as the gaping portal in the bark began to close, sealing itself shut, until it was nothing more than an ordinary tree that no one would even look twice at.

Y/N locked eyes with Jonathan—questions written all over her expression. She swallowed hard, pushing down her panic. “We need to get out of here,” she said quietly, her eyes darting nervously around the dark woods.

Jonathan stood first, offering his hands to the girls to help them up. “Let’s get back to the car,” he said, his voice steady, though his hands trembled as he helped Nancy and Y/N to their feet, feeling the slight tremor lingering through Nancy’s shocked body.

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐫

The dark road stretched out in the night, only illuminated by the faint glow of the vehicle's headlights. The moon hung low in the sky, casting light over the treetops that framed the narrow path. Inside the car, the tension was heavy. The hum of the engine sounded, but it did little to ease the growing discomfort between the group.

Nancy sat in the back seat beside Y/N, her hands clasped tightly together, trembling slightly as she spoke. She didn’t look like herself—her face was pale, with big, wide eyes. Her clothing, which was usually neat and put together, still held traces of the slime that had covered her in the woods.

"Then I stepped on one of those vines—they were moving. Like…" She trailed off, her voice still shaken. She glanced down at her feet, not meeting anyone’s gaze, but her mind was clearly elsewhere—back in the woods, back in that terrifying place she escaped from.

Y/N sat beside Nancy and felt her stomach twist. “Like living veins?” She asked softly, finishing Nancy’s sentence, snapping the girl back to reality.

“Yeah… like veins.” Nancy nodded, furrowing her eyebrows in thought, pausing for a brief moment.

“Your sketchbook… when you showed us what you saw in your dream back in the photo lab, that’s exactly what everything looked like,” Nancy recalled, a lightbulb going off in her mind. She turned in her seat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Do you still have it with you?”

Without a word, Y/N nodded, slowly pulling the sketchbook from her shoulder bag. Her fingers felt cold as she flipped through the pages, each sketch bringing a new wave of dread washing over her. She hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the page Nancy had been referring to—the monster. Its twisted form, surrounded by the same vein-like vines that Nancy had described, stared back at them in pencil and ink.

“That,” Nancy’s voice was almost a whisper as she reached out to trace her finger along the edges of the sketch. “That’s the thing I saw. But how… how did you see this in your dream before any of this even happened?” Her eyes darted between Y/N’s, filled with confusion.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the low rumble of the car. She glanced out the window, watching the dark forest blur by. “It feels like… with everything going on, they keep getting worse—the dreams.”

Jonathan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, watching the exchange between the two girls, his brows furrowed in concern. He hadn’t said much since Nancy began talking about what she saw, but his silence was filled with the same unspoken dread they all felt.

Nancy looked back at Y/N, her expression urgent. “Have you had any more? Since… since all of this?” She questioned, her voice hushed—as though afraid the answer would be yes.

Y/N slowly nodded, her hands trembling as she clutched the sketchbook in her lap. “Yeah. The last one…” She paused, struggling to find the right words. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the lines of the drawing, feeling the weight of it all.

"It was different this time. Worse.” 

As Y/N finished her sentence, the air in the car felt heavy, as though they were all bracing for something none of them were prepared to hear.

“What did you see?” Jonathan softly urged, his voice quiet but firm, eyes darting in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Y/N.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she began to speak, her voice trembling. “It was like… I was back in the woods again. But everything was wrong. The trees were twisted, covered in those same vines, except they weren’t just moving… they were alive. Pulsing with this dark, slimy goo. The air was so thick, it felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Jonathan tightened his grip on the steering wheel as Y/N spoke, his knuckles turning white. Nancy’s hand, still hovering over the sketch, trembled slightly as she listened.

“And then… I heard Barb,” Y/N’s voice wavered as she spoke her name, taking a breath. 

“She was crying for help. I—I tried to run toward her, I almost had her, but the ground… it's like it opened up, and she… she was pulled under. I reached out, but I couldn’t—” Her voice broke, unable to finish her sentence, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket to distract herself from the lump forming in the back of her throat.

Nancy’s hand slowly raised to her mouth, her own eyes filling with tears as she imagined what Y/N had seen. “Is Barb…” Nancy tried to speak, but her breath hitched, her voice catching in her throat.

Jonathan, silent but focused, finally spoke up, his voice steady. “You think these dreams… they’re like some kind of warning? Or…” He trailed off, not knowing what to believe anymore.

Y/N shrugged, shaking her head as she tucked strands of hair that fell in her face behind her ear. “I don’t know… But every time I wake up, I feel like… something worse is going to happen. Like, I’m seeing things that I shouldn’t be.”

Nancy took a shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “Then maybe…” She began slowly, her voice laced with unease. “That creature, the one from your dream—it has to be what took Barb. What took Will, maybe the answers are right in front of us…”

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her mind swirling with the terrifying possibility.

Jonathan’s voice cut through the thick tension. “It makes sense. The creature was eating that deer which was already bleeding out before we got to it… maybe it’s attracted to blood.”

Nancy’s expression hardened as she spoke, her face set into a determined line. “It’s out there. We have to stop that thing before it takes anyone else.”

Y/N stared at her sketchbook, feeling a heavy knot of dread forming in her stomach. She flipped through more pages, her drawings feeling much less like dreams—and more like glimpses of the horrifying reality she was beginning to find herself in.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

A pair of headlights cut through the darkness outside Hopper’s trailer, their harsh beams illuminating the swirling cloud of bugs that buzzed toward the light. The quiet hum of insects filled the night, their flutters growing louder as they gathered at the light.

Y/N stepped out of Jonathan’s Ford, the cool fall air hitting her skin. Nancy, still visibly shaken, slid out of the backseat to take her place in the front.

“Call me if you guys need anything,” Y/N said, watching as Nancy buckled herself in the passenger seat, her eyes distant.

“Got it,” Jonathan replied, his voice tinged with concern. His gaze drifted toward the empty driveway, finding Hopper’s car nowhere in sight. “And you’re sure Hopper will be here soon?”

“Yeah, he’ll be back soon.” Y/N offered a reassuring nod, though she wasn’t certain. With a final wave, she made her way up the gravel path to the trailer, listening to the crunch of her footsteps as Jonathan’s car pulled away, its taillights fading into the night.

Shaking off her unease, Y/N unlocked the front door and stepped inside, greeted by a blanket of darkness. She flipped the lock behind her, a chill running down her spine as she touched the cold metal. She tossed her bag onto the couch near the front door, the thud of it against the cushions muffled in the quiet room.

It wasn’t like Hopper to be out this late. Y/N scanned the room, her eyes drawn to the glowing red numbers on the clock, 10:34 PM. Hopper should have been home by now. Although it’s been usual for him to be running late with everything going on, he’s usually back no past ten PM. 

Her fingers hesitated on the TV remote as she stood before switching it on, the static-filled screen flickering to life, bathing the room in a dull glow. She switched on the nearby lamp, the warm light doing little to chase away the strange feeling gnawing at her gut. It wasn’t until she sat down that she realized something was off—really off.

The trailer was a mess.

Newspapers were strewn across the coffee table, articles scattered, as though someone had been frantically scanning through them. Empty beer cans littered the floor, some crushed, others standing untouched. Pill bottles were scattered on the table, some toppled over, their contents spilled. But what really caught Y/N’s eye was the phone—it had been unplugged, lying lifeless next to the wall socket.

Most of all, why was Hopper drinking again? 

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she stepped toward the cluttered table, the papers crinkling under her fingers as she flipped through them. One article stood out immediately:

"Terry Ives Suing" ‘They took my daughter’

By Benjamin Buck

“After the district attorney’s office declined to press criminal charges citing lack of evidence, local resident Terry Ives is not giving up her search for justice for herself and her daughter, and this morning filed a lawsuit against research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner and his staff.”

“Ms. Ives's suit seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and kidnapping. The suit alleges Dr. Brenner’s group was negligent in communicating the risks of the study, and in verifying Ives was physically fit for—”

Y/N’s eyes darted to the other articles and photos scattered across the table. Images of children in hospital gowns, their heads shaved clean, their faces devoid of any emotion. One image stuck out—a small girl, not as old as the others, staring blankly into the camera. A chill ran down her spine.

“Experimenting on children? Telekinesis? This is heavy stuff,” Y/N whispered to herself, shaking her head as she attempted to wrap her mind around the articles she examined. There was no way any of this was real, it had to be written by conspiracists.

It was crazy—beyond crazy.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden flash of headlights spilling through the window. She froze, her pulse quickening as the familiar sound of Hopper’s vehicle engine cut through the still night. She watched from the corner of her eye as the man stepped out, moving quickly toward the front door.

The door swung open with a creak, and Hopper’s eyes immediately locked onto Y/N’s in the living room, who was still standing by the coffee table, clutching one of the articles in her hand.

“What is all of this?” Y/N’s voice cut through the tension as she gestured to the mess around her. She stepped forward, watching Hopper carefully as he shut the door behind him. His face was covered with exhaustion, but there was something else there too, something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

“It’s, um…” Hopper hesitated, clearly caught off guard. He glanced around the room, his eyes briefly landing on the crumpled beer cans and scattered pills, slightly panicking.

“A friend dropped by. Brought me some stuff, y’know, to read.” He reached for the cans, scooping them up in one hand and tossing them into the trash can with a clatter. “They know I like to keep up with the papers,” he added, as if that explanation would somehow smooth everything over.

Y/N crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” She dragged, her voice dripping with skepticism as she glanced down at the articles again. 

“Really.” Hopper mocked, his tone confident.

“Because last time I checked, you weren’t into conspiracy theories about missing kids with mind powers, and you quit drinking.” Y/N shot back.

Hopper stilled for a moment, his expression faltering as he busied himself with plugging the phone back into the wall. He didn’t answer, and that only confirmed what Y/N already suspected—he was hiding something.

"Go to bed, kid. I'll clean this up," Hopper mumbled, turning away. His tone was evasive, as if ending the conversation would bury the entire topic. "You might be on your own for breakfast. Got an early start tomorrow."

Y/N didn’t move, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. As she held one of the articles, Hopper passed her and grabbed it out of her hands, stacking it with the rest of the articles. She could see right through him.

There was more going on here—something he didn’t want her involved in.

“Yeah, sure, Hopper,” she muttered, turning on her heel and heading toward her room, but not before throwing one last glance at the papers. Whatever Hopper was mixed up in, it wasn’t just a routine case.

And she wasn’t about to let him keep her in the dark.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

The sudden blare of the telephone cut through the quiet stillness of the trailer, jarring Y/N from her final moments of sleep. She stirred, blinking groggily as the early morning light fell through the thin curtains in her room.

The air was cool, and the distant sound of birds chirping filtered in from outside. With a groan, she pushed herself up, tossing the covers aside and shuffling outside to the living room as the ringing persisted, each note pulling her further into consciousness.

"Hello?" She muttered as she picked up the phone, her voice hoarse with sleep as she glanced at the clock on the wall—noting it was only 8:07 AM. She frowned, wondering who would be calling this early.

“Get ready and meet me at my house,” came Nancy’s voice on the other end, laced with urgency.

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand over her face as she tried to focus. "What? Why?"

"Just hurry up! I’ll see you soon!" Nancy chimed before the line went dead, leaving Y/N staring at the receiver in disbelief. She huffed, hanging up the phone, muttering under her breath as she shuffled toward her room to get ready.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬

Y/N biked through the quiet streets, the crisp fall breeze brushing past her cheeks as the soft hum of her tires on the pavement filled the air. She turned onto Maple Street, approaching the Wheeler's house. As she propped her bike against the garage and approached the front door, she could already smell breakfast cooking.

The door creaked as she stepped inside, and Y/N was met with Mrs. Wheeler peeking over from the kitchen with a pan in hand, while Mr. Wheeler sat at the kitchen table, immersed in a newspaper. Mrs. Wheeler, being the kind woman she is, warmly greeted the girl, “Hey Y/N, it’s nice to see you! Breakfast is almost done if you’d like some.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler, that would be nice.” Y/N sent a polite smile, watching Mr. Wheeler aggressively flip his newspaper. 

“You might as well invite the entire neighborhood over for breakfast,” He muttered, earning a swat on the shoulder from Karen as she passed him, placing cooked eggs on a big plate.

“Please, don’t mind him, you’re welcome anytime.” Mrs. Wheeler shook her head, glancing at Y/N as she sent a small smile, taking her jacket off in the living room. 

“Y/N, dear, would you mind grabbing the boys for breakfast? They’re in the basement on your left,” The woman kindly asked as she organized the breakfast plates. 

“Of course, Mrs. Wheeler.” Y/N nodded, setting her jacket on the couch, then making her way towards the basement.

As she approached, she could hear hushed voices from below, along with quick shuffling footsteps. She descended the staircase, only to be met with the group of boys standing awkwardly in front of a fort, almost as if expecting her arrival.

Dustin was the first to speak, a guilty grin covering his face. “Hey, Y/N, what are you doing here?”

Before Y/N could speak, a noise came from behind the fort, but Lucas cleared his throat with an awkward smile, playing it off. “Sorry, something got stuck in my throat,” He said, earning a hard slap on the back from Mike before Lucas shoved him. 

“Just helping you, man.” Mike protested, throwing his hands up defensively.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused by their strange behavior, but ultimately not too concerned. “Mrs. Wheeler says breakfast is ready, she wants you guys upstairs.”

“Oh, uh, yeah! We’ll be right up,” Dustin replied quickly, glancing nervously between Mike and Lucas.

Y/N lingered for a moment, watching the boys fidget. “Alright then,” she finally said with a shrug. “But don’t take too long, or the food will get cold.”

“Got it, Y/N!” Dustin added, nodding swiftly with a convincing smile.

She dispersed up the basement stairs, entering the living room. “I told the boys to come up. I’ll be right back, going to check on Nancy,” Y/N announced to Mrs. Wheeler as she approached upstairs, and she replied with a, “Thank you, Y/N!”

As Y/N climbed the steps, she heard a soft, almost panicked shuffling coming from behind Nancy’s door. Faint whispers followed, too muffled to make out but enough to raise an eyebrow. Y/N approached Nancy’s door, knocking on it softly.

"It’s me," Y/N announced, and the door flew open in an instant. Nancy stood there, her hair messy, and behind her, Jonathan was crawling out from beneath her bed, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Hi, Jonathan." Y/N greeted him casually through a smug smirk that tugged at her lips. "You guys are terrible at being secretive."

Jonathan stood up quickly, brushing off his jeans with a sheepish grin. "Hey," he muttered, glancing between the two girls.

"Everything okay?" Y/N asked, her gaze shifting to Nancy. “Yeah, but just so you know, it’s not what it looks like,” Nancy spoke as she shut the door behind Y/N, earning a soft chuckle.

“Don’t worry, that’s not what I thought. After last night, I could’ve used some company too.” Y/N shrugged, walking over to the edge of Nancy’s bed to take a seat.

"Well,” Nancy cleared her throat, her expression determined. “We have a plan—we’re going to need weapons and traps, lots of them.”

𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

Inside the hunting store, guns were hanging upon the walls, with mannequins styling the store's apparel—there was any kind of weapon or contraction you could need lying about. Nancy, Jonathan, and Y/N set their items down at the checkout counter, the cashier’s expression growing with curiosity, mostly utter disbelief. They had bear traps, gasoline, lighter fluid, nails—you name it. 

“And uh, four boxes of .38s.” Jonathan set his hands on the counter as Nancy continued setting things down, while Y/N helped to unload their shopping basket. Older music from the 70s blared over the speakers above the group, watching as the cashier grabbed the bullet cases from the shelf and set them down on the counter.

“What are you kids doing with all of this?” The cashier finally admitted his curiosity. Jonathan fidgeted his fingers nervously, and the group glanced at each other, not quite finding the right words. 

“Uh—” Jonathan began, before stopping himself, clenching his jaw.

“Monster hunting,” Nancy spoke up, shrugging as she raised her eyebrows sarcastically, causing the cashier to scoff—shaking his head in disbelief as he checked them out.

“Monster hunting?” Y/N mocked Nancy’s words as they returned to Jonathan’s Ford outside the hunting store. The sky was overcast and the streets were not so busy, mostly walked by people running errands with few cars passing by.

“Not like he would believe us either way,” Nancy shrugged as they approached the boy’s vehicle, opening the trunk. Jonathan chuckled as the group unloaded the hunting items in the trunk until Y/N paused, squinting her eyes to read the bright red title that caught her eye at the local movie theatre, The Hawk.

“You know, last week… I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve Harrington might like, to impress him.” Nancy recalled as she and Jonathan continued unloading the supplies, but Y/N let out a small gasp, finally realizing what the big, ugly red letters read at the theatre. 

“All The Right Moves: Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler.”

“Uh, Nancy…” Y/N’s heart dropped to her stomach, staring at the spray-painted letters in complete disbelief.

It was cruel.

“It took me and Barb all weekend, it seemed like life or death, you know? And, now…” Nancy trailed off, paying no mind to Y/N as Jonathan finished her sentence.

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Y/N and Jonathan Byers.” Jonathan grinned sheepishly, gazing at Nancy before he shut the trunk.

“Yeah…” Nancy gave a soft smile, turning to glance at Jonathan.

“Guys,” Y/N’s eyes darted between Nancy and Jonathan, but they didn’t even spare a look at her.

“What’s the weirdest part? Me, or the bear trap?” Jonathan nudged Nancy’s shoulder with his elbow playfully, earning a hearty chuckle.

“You. Most definitely you—”

“If you idiots would stop flirting with each other, you could listen to what I’m saying!” Y/N was now yelling, attempting to get their attention, and she got it—before it was taken away by a car honking behind them on the street.

“Hey, Nance! We can’t wait to see your movie,” A boy called out with a nasty grin, his arm slinging out of the rolled-down window as the car drove by.

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan murmured, glancing between Nancy and Y/N. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” Y/N began, unsure of how to even tell Nancy about the words written on the theatre for the entire town to see. Before Y/N could continue, Nancy’s gaze shifted behind her, her eyes widening in shock as her jaw dropped. 

“What?” Jonathan scoffed, watching as Nancy hurried off, picking up her feet to jog across the street. “Where is she going?” The boy shook his head as Y/N followed behind him, chasing Nancy down the road.

They now stood before the Hawk, with the bold, awful, ugly red letters on display. Y/N looked between the sign and Nancy, shaking her head. “Who in their right mind would even do this? You haven’t been with anyone Nance, have you?” Y/N questioned, watching her friend look at the sign in disbelief.

Nancy was in a daze, feeling as if everyone who passed her had their eyes glued onto her, which… most of them did, whispering under their breath to one another. It was a small town, and the Wheelers were a known family, so Nancy’s name was something anyone would recognize.

The sound of faint chuckling and spray paint cans rattling echoed in Y/N’s ears, and she turned to see a group of teens vandalizing the side of The Hawk in the alleyway across the street. Nancy also seemed to catch onto it, taking quick strides toward the alleyway. 

Y/N caught up with her, with Jonathan a distance behind, turning into the alleyway to find the one and only—Steve Harrington, and his group of douchebag friends, with the same red spray paint that was on The Hawk.

Nancy’s fists clenched at her sides, her lips pressed into a thin line, before taking angry steps towards the group. Although Y/N didn’t know the entire story, she could recognize the look on her face—Nancy was angry, but most of all, hurt.

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol’s mocking tone pierced through Y/N’s ears. “Didn’t think the two of you would show up!” She added with a sneer, her eyes flicking between the girls.

Y/N was close behind Nancy, watching her march toward Steve. He didn’t look too happy either—his usual smug grin was replaced with something darker, more defensive. Tommy lazily grinned, holding a can of spray paint. "Uh oh, looks like someone's pissed," he droned, nudging Steve. 

Before anyone could react, Nancy’s hand flew through the air, smacking Steve across the face with a resounding slap, the sound echoing through the alleyway. Everyone gasped. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy’s voice trembled, the hurt breaking through her anger.

“What’s wrong with me?” Steve scoffed, holding his cheek. 

“What’s wrong with you, Nancy? I was worried about you.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but beneath it, there was something raw. “Can you believe it? I was actually worried about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Nancy threw her hands out, searching Steve’s face for answers.

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you, you don’t want to be the lying slut now, do you?” Carol stepped toward Nancy with an infuriating grin. Y/N reacted instinctively, stepping between the two and shoving Carol’s shoulder. 

“I would back off if I were you,” Y/N spat with a sharp glare, watching Carol’s jaw drop with disbelief, before Tommy snickered, looking behind them and breaking the tension.

“Oh-ho, speak of the devil!” Tommy smirked wickedly, raising his spray can as he watched Jonathan approach the group.

Nancy looked between Steve and Jonathan, her face softening just slightly. "He came by last night. Did you… try to sneak in or something?”

Carol couldn’t resist chiming in again, her voice grating, earning another glare from Y/N. “Ding, ding, ding! Does she win a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Nancy stepped toward Steve, firmly stating her case.

“What, did he come over to study?” Steve clicked, raising his brows.

“Or, for a pervy photo session?” Tommy chuckled, slinging his arm around Carol with a smug grin.

“Look, we were just—” Nancy tried to explain, but she hesitated, and Steve noticed it. 

“You were just what? Finish that sentence.” He mocked, stepping closer to Nancy, his tone cold. “Finish the sentence.” 

Nancy faltered, avoiding his gaze, her mouth hanging open as she searched for the right words. Steve scoffed, taking a step forward. “You wanted to play girlfriend and boyfriend, but the second this freak shows up,” he gestured toward Jonathan, “you change your mind.”

Nancy’s expression crumpled, her eyes flicking to Steve’s in a silent plea. “Because you—you…” Nancy stammered.

“Because I, what?” Steve snapped.

Nancy finally found her voice, “Because the second things started getting serious, you avoided me. You flirted with other girls, you—” she paused, her voice cracking slightly. “You pushed me away.”

Steve shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Go to hell, Nancy.” The boy coldly looked down at the girl, then shifted his hardened gaze to Y/N standing beside her. “And you, Smith, find some better friends. You’re better than a perv and a cheater.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenched, but she kept her voice steady. “You know what’s funny?” She called after him as he began to walk away, her voice sharp. Steve stopped in his tracks, turning to face her, waiting for her to speak.

“I didn’t even know you and Nancy were dating. Hell, I never saw you act like it.”

Steve locked eyes with Y/N, waiting for the girl to get to her point. “I also know cheating applies to flirting with other girls while you’re in a relationship, Harrington. Get some fucking self-respect.”

“Look, Y/N, it was never official!” Steve threw his hands out, in a weak attempt at defending himself.

“Then, Nancy’s not a cheater! You don’t even know the whole story!” Y/N shot back, throwing her own hands out.

Steve stepped closer, his voice low with anger. “You defending her?"

“Yeah, maybe this is a good time to learn how relationships work. You can’t treat people like pawns, Steve. Maybe by some miracle, this will teach you to act like you're actually in a relationship, and that’s if you could even stick to one girl—” Y/N began to ramble in a rage, before she felt herself get pulled back, locking eyes with Jonathan. 

“Let’s just go,” he muttered, trying to diffuse the tension.

Steve stepped toward Jonathan, his eyes narrowing at his hand locked around Y/N’s arm. “You know what, perv? I’m impressed, I always took you for a queer but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father,” Steve’s words began to shoot daggers as he shoved Jonathan, and Y/N was now grabbing his arm instead, guiding him away.

“Oh yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess you shouldn’t really be surprised, there’s a whole bunch of screw-ups in the Byers family,” Steve continued, and at this point, Y/N was dragging Jonathan’s arm while Nancy yelled at Harrington to stop.

“I mean, your mom! I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother,” The brown-haired boy wouldn’t stop, and Jonathan had entirely halted in his tracks as Y/N tugged on his arm, begging him to keep walking. 

“Please, Jonathan! It’s not worth it!” Y/N whispered urgently, watching Jonathan’s gaze shift to the ground. 

She felt the shift in his demeanor, his usual kind and quiet presence turning into something else. Y/N noticed the way he clenched his jaw, the way he held his fists together—his fingernails digging into his palms. He was starting to see red, and hell, Y/N couldn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry I have to break it to you, but the Byers, that family is a disgrace to the entire—”

Thwack!

Y/N gasped, her hand flying over her mouth as Jonathan’s fist collided with Steve’s cheekbone. The sound—a dull, sickening thud—echoed through the alley, sending Steve flying toward the vandalized brick wall. Steve staggered for a moment, holding his cheek as he looked back at Jonathan, absolutely infuriated.

Nancy rushed over to Jonathan, her eyes wide with fear, placing her hand on his back. “Jonathan, let’s go—”

Steve suddenly launched himself at Jonathan, tackling him to the ground with a sudden burst of anger. Both boys hit the pavement hard, and the sound of their bodies colliding sounded through the narrow alley. Nancy screamed, stumbling back as Y/N stood frozen, her heart pounding in her ears. They wrestled on the concrete, limbs flailing as they each tried to gain the upper hand.

“Get him, Harrington!” Tommy’s voice rang out, egging his friend on as if the fight was some kind of sick game.

Steve had managed to stand, watching as Jonathan prepared to throw another swing. This time, he managed to dodge it, catching Jonathan off guard—landing a hard punch on his cheek with a thud. Jonathan was quick to come back from it, fueled by a rage that had sat for too long, sending a haymaker at Steve—knocking him to the ground, the sound of flesh hitting against each other making Y/N sick to her stomach.

And then it became brutal.

Jonathan pinned Steve down and his fists began to fly, one after another, landing punch after punch into Harrington’s face. The sound of knuckles smashing into skin and bone filled the air, each hit wetter and more vicious than the last. Steve’s nose exploded in a spray of blood, staining the pavement beneath them. His hands were up in a weak attempt to block the blows, but Jonathan wasn’t stopping. 

His rage was blinding, his fists relentless as he took out everything on the boy beneath him. At this point—Steve lost, and Jonathan had gone too far. The sudden sound of police sirens alarmed the group, turning around to see a cop car enter the alleyway. Jonathan was relentless, the sirens not snapping him out of his frenzy.

“Jonathan, stop!” Y/N’s voice cracked with desperation, but her words fell on deaf ears. She looked to Nancy, who was equally frozen, her face pale as she watched the scene unfold in horror.

“Come on, man, he’s had enough, let’s go!” Tommy, now panicking, grabbed at Steve, trying to pull him away from the relentless beating on the ground. But Jonathan shoved him aside like he was nothing, focused solely on pounding Steve into the pavement.

An officer ran up behind Jonathan, attempting to grab him as well, but in his fury, he elbowed him in the nose—sending him backward and stunning him. But the other officer managed to twist Jonathan’s arms behind his back, forcing him to the ground.

Steve, barely conscious, was pulled to his feet by Tommy, his face swollen and bloody, but he still managed to stumble away with his friends, fleeing into the alleyway. Jonathan was now detained, and Harrington managed to escape with his friends.

Jonathan, panting heavily, was slammed against the police car, cuffs snapping around his wrists. His chest rose and fell with exhaustion, but his eyes still burned with anger as he glared at the spot where Steve had disappeared.

Nancy and Y/N stood frozen, their eyes locking in utter disbelief.

"Of course," Y/N muttered under her breath, throwing her hands in the air. "Of course, Steve Harrington gets away with this."

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

“Hey uh, chief, you there?” One of the officers radioed in, nervously adjusting his glasses while running a hand through his brunette hair. His eyes darted around, waiting for the familiar gruff voice to respond.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Hopper’s voice came through, his tone already impatient.

“A fight broke out here, and—” The officer began, attempting to relay the situation, only to be cut off by Hopper. 

“Cal, I don’t have time for this.” The chief was quick to reply, annoyance now clear in his tone. 

“It’s Jonathan Byers,” Cal quickly added, bracing for the reaction. “Y/N Smith and Nancy Wheeler are with him. You haven’t seen Joyce, have you?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in the police station, taking in the cluttered workspaces, with file cabinets lining the walls and navy curtains half-drawn over the windows. Across the way was a hall leading to Hopper’s office. She stood by the fridge behind reception in the main office, watching quietly as the police station’s receptionist, ever so thoughtful, retrieved ice for Jonathan’s bruised face.

“Do you think we’ll be out of here soon?” Y/N questioned, glancing at her friends before looking at the older woman through her glasses. Her skin was aged, with short dark brown hair, and hints of gray styled neatly.

“You and your friend, yes, him—no. He assaulted a police officer.” She stated, not missing a beat, her words dry and matter-of-fact as Y/N read the name badge on her shirt, “Flo”.

“You’re living with Hopper now, right?” Flo questioned, breaking Y/N out of thought, wrapping the ice that was in a plastic bag into cloth. 

“Uh—yes, for now.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, being reminded of her living situation amid everything.

Flo eyed her for a moment before shrugging. “I think you remind him a lot of his daughter,” She bluntly stated, looking the girl up and down. 

Y/N blinked, trying to recall a time Hopper ever mentioned having kids. “He has a daughter?” 

“Had,” Flo corrected her, her expression softening slightly as she handed Y/N the ice pack, hesitating before speaking again.

“She passed away from terminal cancer a few years ago—he doesn’t like to talk about her… but I think ever since you’ve come into his life, he’s turned it around for the better. You know, to take care of you.” The woman explained as Y/N took the ice pack from her, blinking, unsure of what to say—a bit taken back.

“He's never told me that…” The girl’s voice was soft, trailing off.

Flo shrugged again, her lips curving in a wry smile. “Doesn’t surprise me. That man’s a tough nut to crack, but he cares.” With the ice pack in hand, Y/N walked back to Jonathan and Nancy. She handed it over to Nancy, who gently pressed it against Jonathan’s bruised cheek since his hands were bound in cuffs. “Thanks,” The boy offered a soft smile, his lips pressed into a curved line, until the trio heard a car outside come to a screeching halt, vehicle doors slamming.

“I think that’s Hopper.” Y/N winced through her teeth, preparing herself.

The front door burst open, and the sound of heavy rushed footsteps flew past reception into the main office, being met with Hopper and Jonathan’s mom, Joyce. The chief’s eyes locked with Y/N’s as he entered the room with big strides, giving the girl a quick, disapproving look.

“Jonathan—Jesus, what happened? Why is he wearing handcuffs?”Joyce’s voice cracked with concern as she rushed toward her son in his seat.

“Because your boy assaulted a police officer, that’s why,” the brunette officer began, arms crossed over his chest with slight sass in his tone, but Joyce was quick to respond.

“Take them off.” She sternly spoke, only to be met with silence, neither of the officers meeting her gaze. “Take them off!” She shouted through the station, firmly repeating herself.

“I am afraid I cannot do that—” The officer sighed, shaking his head, until Hopper interrupted him.

“You heard her. Take them off.” He commanded, gesturing toward Jonathan, while the third officer intervened.

“Chief, I understand everyone’s emotional here but… there’s something you need to see.” He gestured for him to follow, and Hopper glanced at Joyce, her expression growing with concern.

The officers marched back inside, their heavy footsteps reverberating through the small station, throwing the hunting supplies the group had just bought before the incident on the desk the kids were sitting at. Nancy’s face tightened in discomfort, her eyes darting to Y/N, whose mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Jonathan’s expression was grim, his fists clenched in his cuffs as he avoided eye contact with anyone.

“What... what is all of this?” Joyce asked, her voice rising in confusion as she glanced through the pile of tools, her fingers brushing over the cold steel of the traps. Her expression twisted with concern, eyes wide with disbelief as she glanced between her son and the girls.

Hopper stood beside Joyce, his posture tense, arms crossed over his chest. “Why don’t you ask your son?” He shot back, his gaze laser-focused on Jonathan. “We found all this in his car.” “Why were you searching through my car?” Jonathan shot a defensive glare, challenging Hopper.

Hopper’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, the air between them growing heavier. “Is that really the question you should be asking right now, Byers?” 

The room fell silent, tension suffocating the atmosphere. Hopper let his words sink in before his gaze swept over the three teenagers. “I want all of you in my office. Now.”

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally meeting Hopper’s eyes. “You won’t believe me,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, the weight of the truth pressing on his chest.

Hopper’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes hard. “Why don’t you give me a shot,” he replied coldly, the challenge clear in his tone, daring him to spill whatever impossible story that was brewing.

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

“You said blood draws this thing?” Hopper questioned, his tone thick with skepticism as he chewed on a toothpick, his eyes scanning the grainy photograph of the monster that Jonathan, Nancy, and Y/N had developed in the photo lab. 

“We don’t know, but… that’s what we think.” Jonathan glanced up at Hopper with uncertainty, while Joyce began shaking her head, stress written all over her face.

“I want to talk to you,” Joyce cut in, her voice firm. She glanced at her son, then the door. “Alone.”

Jonathan exchanged a look with Y/N and Nancy before following his mother out of Hopper’s office, leaving the two girls behind with the chief. Hopper sighed, running a hand over his face before looking at Nancy. 

“Nancy, I need to talk to Y/N as well.”

She nodded, giving Y/N a small, reassuring smile as she headed out the door, closing it softly behind her. Hopper waited until the door clicked shut before turning his full attention to Y/N. His posture was tense, one hand on his hip as he pointed at the photograph of the monster still on the desk. “This,” he began, his voice rising slightly, “This is why I didn’t want you going out and playing detective.” His disappointment was clear, his gaze locking onto Y/N, waiting for her to explain.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, hesitating. “I–I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you. That’s why I wanted to look by myself.” The girl began to explain, folding her arms as Hopper listened to her.

“The… the nightmares I’ve been having, I’ve drawn them,” she spoke after a pause, going to reach into her shoulder bag next to her, pulling out her sketchbook and flipping through the pages.

Hopper stepped toward her, examining the drawings she’d made. “This is the portal we saw, and this is what that place looked like based on what Nancy described when she was in there, with that thing,” Y/N explained, her voice shaking slightly as she watched Hopper look at the details.

“These are the nightmares you’ve been drawing…” The man connected the dots, his words trailing off. “I remember seeing one of these when we were having breakfast. How do you see this stuff, kid?” The chief was quick to question, rubbing his mustache in thought.

Y/N swallowed, feeling the weight of the question. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But the more everything happens, the worse they get. I know it’s crazy, but it's like... I’m connected to it, seeing pieces of what’s—” Y/N explained, before getting cut off by an erratic voice outside.

“Hold that thought, I’ll be right back kiddo,” Hopper sighed, placing a reassuring but heavy hand on Y/N’s shoulder, and quickly exiting the office. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the dimly lit room. She strained to listen to the rising voices beyond the door, her eyes narrowing.

Through the muffled wall, Hopper’s deep voice sounded, “What the hell is going on out here?” Other voices quickly followed, more frantic and desperate.

“A psychotic child broke my son’s arm!” A woman’s voice snapped, her words filled with urgency. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She leaned forward in her chair, the anxiety bubbling up inside her as she tried to piece together what was unfolding.

“I don’t have time for this. Please, just take a statement,” Hopper sighed, his voice growing closer as he began to retreat to his office. Y/N’s head shot up, her ears now fully focused when she heard one of the officers press the boy for details.

“Can you describe what she looked like?” The officer questioned, and Y/N heard Hopper’s footsteps grow closer to his office.

“Her head was shaved with a bloody nose, and she didn’t even look like a girl. And…” The boy paused, his voice becoming quieter, as if afraid to continue, while Hopper’s footsteps halted. “She can… do things. Like—make you fly, with her mind!” 

Y/N’s eyes widened. A bloody nose—superpowers. Just like the girl that was described in the articles Hopper had been looking into.

“Was she alone?” Hopper pressed, urgency now clear in his tone, while another officer told him how crazy this all sounded.

“No,” the boy replied, barely audible now. “She’s always hanging around those losers—Mike, Dustin, and Lucas.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Those kids are involved?

She thought back to that morning when she went to grab them for breakfast at the Wheelers, but they were acting suspicious… as if hiding something. A lightbulb went off in Y/N’s head. This girl—whoever she was—was with them. 

Those boys are absolutely terrible at keeping a secret.

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[keeryhours]

please please please - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! Hopper! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie is no stranger to the Hawkins legal system. It’s no surprise to anyone when he’s dragged in in cuffs again, but it is unexpected when someone catches his eye - the police chief’s daughter.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, a little bit of sub!eddie, delinquent!eddie, talk of drugs, weed use

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N:

I’ve been stuck in the worst writing slump! So glad to finally finish something I feel good about and share with you guys :)

—

You spent most days after school sitting around the Hawkins police station, working on your homework until your dad was ready to take you both home. You weren’t the biggest fan of sitting in the empty house alone, and waiting for him here beat having to walk home since you still didn’t have a car.

You sat at an empty desk, chin in your hand as you tapped the pencil against your paper. The gentle chatter of the station filled your ears. You were bored, tired of fighting with your math homework, wishing you could be off with your friends instead of here.

The sound of the door opening abruptly caught your attention, your eyes moving to the source of the noise. Officer Callahan came in, leading a man in cuffs. A man - as if you ever could have mistaken Eddie Munson. The ‘Freak’ of Hawkins High. With his tall, lanky build, his mess of curly hair, and his metalhead attire, he was hard to miss.

Your dad stepped out of his office, a hand running over his mustache with a sigh. “What are you doing in my station again, Munson? Didn’t you and I have a good talk?”

“Just missed ya so much, Hop,” Eddie quipped back with a grin, looking much too cheerful for his current predicament.

“Caught him trespassing at the old factory,” Officer Callahan supplied, holding onto Eddie by the back of his jacket.

“Drugs?” Jim Hopper asked.

“Just half a joint,” Callahan answered.

Hopper let out another deep sigh. “I’m trying to work with you here, Eddie. This is your fifth arrest this school year alone. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you ending up behind bars for years of your life.”

Eddie shook his head with a grin, curls bouncing wildly. “I hear ya, Hop. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Evidently I do,” Hopper muttered. “How about this? You can spend the night here with us tonight, and you can think about whether that’s how you want to spend your life.” He claps Eddie on the shoulder hard before he’s turning to walk back into his office.

Officer Callahan leads Eddie through the station, Eddie smiling at the other officers as they pass like they’re on a first name basis, which they probably are. When his eyes meet yours, his grin grows even wider. He has a beautiful smile, which is something you’re just now noticing for the first time. He’s really hot in general, you realize. Only when your heart starts beating out of your chest at his attention. He shoots you a flirty wink as he passes, and then Callahan is roughly taking him back to the cells.

You think about Eddie for the rest of the day. Even when your dad comes out, pulling on his coat and says it’s time to head home. Even when you’re riding home in the passenger seat of the police vehicle, Hopper trying to make conversation about your day. When you sit down and eat dinner together. And especially as you’re laying in bed in the silence of the night.

You’re leaving school 2 days later, walking through the parking lot with your backpack slung over your shoulder when you’re stopped by a voice.

“Hey, Hopper!”

You turned at the sound, eyebrows raising at the sight of Eddie Munson walking towards you. “Weird to say that name and not be talking about your dad,” Eddie laughed when he reached you, a hand running through his curls.

You looked at him, confused why he was talking to you in the first place. “Uh, can I help you?”

Eddie gave you that big smile, bowing his head to you. “I was hoping you might do me the honors of spending the afternoon with me.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Me? Why?”

“Why not?” Eddie laughed, and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful of a smile he had again. “You seem cool. I want to get to know you better.”

That was how you found yourself in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, watching his long fingers rolling up a joint. Some kind of metal blasted from the car’s speakers, some band you definitely weren’t familiar with. Your stomach was in knots as you watched him deftly roll the paper.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked as Eddie finished up, realizing you’d run out of time to stall.

“‘Course it’s okay,” Eddie laughed, running his tongue along the paper. You watched intently as his long tongue poked out to trail along the seam of the joint. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“My dad…”

Eddie waved you off before you even finished your sentence. “Hop’s never gonna know. Calm down.” He produced a lighter from his pocket and handed you both with a flourish. “M’lady.”

You took them from him cautiously, as if they might explode in your hand. You looked over the foreign object. You were pretty sure you knew which side to light.

Your inspection was interrupted by Eddie’s chuckling. “You really haven’t done this before, huh?”

Your eyes met his and you blushed, casting your gaze downwards. “No. I’ve never smoked anything.”

“Ooh, a good girl,” Eddie teased, reaching forward to pluck the joint from your fingers. “I’ll get it started for you, baby.”

Your cheeks heated even more at the pet name, but you watched as Eddie placed the joint between his lips (you were correct about which side gets lit, at least) and flicked the lighter, bringing it to his face. The flame caught evenly, burning perfectly as Eddie breathed in a long drag. Once he’d taken two big puffs, he handed it back to you.

You took it from him with shaking hands. You brought it to your lips and breathed in just like you’d watched Eddie do - only to feel like your throat was on fire and start coughing your lungs out.

Eddie laughed hard, reaching to grab you a bottle of water. “It’s okay. Just try again. You don’t have to take a huge hit.”

Once your coughing fit had ended and you’d wiped the tears off your face, gratefully accepting the water bottle and taking a big sip, you worked up the courage to try again. You breathed in slower this time, following the instructions Eddie was giving you. This time you were able to get the smoke into your lungs and hold it there, letting it out in a shaking breath before you started coughing again.

“Atta girl!” Eddie praised, taking the joint back from you and bringing it back to his own mouth. “You’re a natural. Knew you’d like it.”

It didn’t take long before you began to feel it. The music sounded so good you just had to sway along, and everything Eddie said was so funny. Time felt like it moved in slow motion and life looked like you were watching a movie.

“Enjoying yourself?” Eddie asked, making himself nice and comfortable in the back of the van. His long legs were spread out before him, crossed at the ankles while his hands rested intertwined on his stomach.

You nodded, a dopey smile on your face. “Yeah, I’m…having a great time,” you said before falling into a fit of giggles.

Eddie laughed along with you. “Yeah, looks like it.” He looked you over, like he was admiring every part of your body. “I knew I could get you to loosen up.”

His music sounded heavenly in your ears now. You were so warm and cozy, you could have stayed here all night. You spent most of the night there with Eddie, just talking and laughing about any and everything. You realized it had been a long time since you’d laughed so hard and felt so free.

Eddie drove you home, thankfully early enough that you beat your dad there. Your head still felt fuzzy but you weren’t as blasted as you had been.

“Thanks,” you said shyly as you climbed out of the van. “For the ride home and the, uh…weed.”

Eddie gave you that huge grin again. “Any time, sweetheart.”

You spent yet another night with your thoughts full of Eddie. He was actually a cool person. But you knew your dad would never approve of that friendship, or what you had been up to tonight.

Hopper came home with pizzas in hand. You were relieved, since you’d had the munchies for hours and the snacks you and Eddie had devoured in the back of the van had long since worn off. He looked at you suspiciously when you laughed far too hard at his cheesy dad jokes, but didn’t question you.

You and Eddie were fast friends after that. Spending just about every day after school together, getting high, exploring abandoned buildings you weren’t supposed to be at, sitting in on Corroded Coffin band practice and Hellfire Club meetings. You had become near inseparable, something that was strange to his friends when he first brought you around, but now you were like a package deal. Where Eddie went, you were sure to follow, and vice versa.

Eddie continued having his run-ins with the Hawkins police, including your father. It seemed he was just incapable of staying out of trouble. He got bored, and once that boredom hit, he was sure to be off doing something stupid to entertain himself, no matter how you put your foot down or begged him not to.

You could hardly even be surprised when you were home one night and Hopper walked in, looking pissed as hell and grumbling under his breath as he slid off his jacket.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, brows furrowed. You hadn’t seen him come home this worked up very often.

Hopper turned towards you, eyes softening as he took in his daughter’s face, not wanting to take his frustration out on you. He sighed again. “It’s that Munson kid. Caught him doing a deal and he ran. Had to put a warrant out for him.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but your mouth nearly dropped. You reined it in, however, since your dad isn’t even supposed to know you know Eddie at all. “Wow,” is all you can think to offer.

Hopper began heading towards his bedroom to shower and change before dinner. “I have tried and tried to help that boy,” he muttered, seemingly only to himself. “But he just doesn’t want the damn help.”

Eddie was on your mind as usual that night, but this time it was worry. You tossed and turned in bed once you laid down. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

Ping. Ping.

The sound of something hitting your window jolted your attention in that direction. Sure enough, the sound came again, accompanied by a pebble smacking against the glass.

You climbed out of bed in your pajamas, feeling nervous as you approached the window. You pushed it open, leaning your head outside.

“Eddie?”

Sure enough, the metalhead stood beneath your window, looking more disheveled than usual. He gave you a big smile. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair…”

You rolled your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice as low as possible. Because really, how dumb is he to show up to the police chief’s house when there’s a warrant out for his arrest?

“Needed to see you,” Eddie said simply with a shrug of his shoulders. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, eyebrows raised high.

“Does it matter?” Eddie smiled.

You debated on it. You knew this was a terrible idea. But hell, it was more fun than being in your room alone. You held up a finger telling him to give you a minute before you slipped back into the room and threw on a pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie over the t-shirt you were sleeping in. Socks and sneakers on your feet and then you were climbing out your window for the first time ever, falling to the ground safely with Eddie’s assistance. His hands lingered on your hips once you were on the ground, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

Eddie had parked his van around the block. The two of you walked together in mostly silence, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves. Once you were safely in the van it felt like you could breathe again. Eddie cranked his music up, and took off.

“Are we fugitives now?” you teased, nighttime breeze blowing through the open window and whipping your hair around your face.

“Just me,” Eddie laughed. You laughed too, even though nothing about the situation was funny, really.

Eddie pulled the van to a stop on a back road, a spot hidden from prying eyes. “I thought we could sit here and just hang out,” Eddie explained as he saw you taking in your surroundings. “Maybe smoke a little, listen to music, whatever you want.”

That’s how you ended up in the back of the van again, a common hangout for the two of you. A joint shared between you and good music playing through the car’s speakers, you were both feeling amazing. You sat next to him, leaned against his shoulder as you enjoyed each other’s company.

“I always thought you were so pretty, you know.”

The words caught you so off guard you suspected you’d imagined them. But you turn to Eddie and he’s looking right at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something. Like he’s nervous.

“Y-you did?” is all you’re able to respond.

Eddie smiled softly. “Yeah, of course.” His hand comes up to cup your cheek gently. “I still do. You are pretty. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. You knew you had to be red as a tomato right now, and you hoped the dim lighting in the van was enough to hide it from Eddie’s searching eyes. You knew you needed to say something, but you couldn’t make the words come out of your mouth.

Eddie brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. He was looking at you so intensely now, it made your heart beat out of your chest. He calls your name, and it sounds more beautiful on his tongue than you’ve ever heard it.

“I like you,” he said, looking right into your eyes. “I really like you. You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. And you’re hot, funny, smart. The whole package.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Eddie’s mouth, and you were pretty sure the weed was making your brain work in slow motion. But he wasn’t laughing at his own joke, or saying he didn’t mean it. He was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to say something, anything, back.

“I…” you began, quickly realizing your throat was extremely dry. Eddie handed you a water bottle with a chuckle, and you took it gratefully. Once the water had soothed your throat (and given you a second to stall), you had enough courage to turn back to him. “I…I like you, too.”

Eddie’s face lit up at your words. “Yeah? You do?”

He was so cute, like an excited puppy. It was so easy to forget that this guy saw the police station as a second home and had a warrant out for his arrest that very moment. You briefly wondered if being here with him put yourself in any legal trouble, but you also didn’t really care. “Yeah. I really do.”

Eddie’s hand remained on your cheek, thumb rubbing softly over your skin. He brought his other hand to your other cheek, and then he was pulling you in. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you let him pull you until his lips were on yours.

Kissing Eddie felt more natural than you ever could have thought. It felt like you had always been doing this, his lips so familiar to you it was like you knew exactly what to do to drive him wild. Or maybe that was just the effect you had on him.

Eddie’s hands began to wander as you kissed him back deeply, leaving your face to trail up your thigh and to your hips, rubbing your sides over your hoodie.

He reached for the hem of your hoodie and quickly pulled it over your head. You were left in the thin pajama shirt, no bra underneath. You prayed he couldn’t see your nipples through your shirt, but with the way he was staring, you suspected he could.

“So hot,” Eddie moaned, his large hands reaching out to grasp your breasts over your shirt. Chills spread through your body as his fingers trailed over your hard nipples, and he moaned again. He groped at your tits for a while until he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled your shirt over your head, hands going straight back to your now-bare breasts. He leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, his fingers still working the other.

The sensation caught you off guard and you gasped, a hand involuntarily shooting up to grab ahold of Eddie’s curls and accidentally pulling, which made him groan against your skin. Moans spilled from your mouth as he ran his tongue over your nipple, circling around it before puckering his lips around it and sucking. You arched your back into his mouth, wanting more, more of this feeling Eddie was providing that was making you feel like you had died and gone to heaven.

Eddie switched sides, wrapping his hot mouth against your other nipple as he attended to the other with his fingers, rubbing and pinching. The wetness left on your now exposed nipple made the cool air even more noticable against the sensitive bud. Your head leaned back against the wall of the van as Eddie worshiped your tits, his jeans growing uncomfortably tight. He palmed himself, desperate for some relief on his aching cock.

He pulled off your nipple with a pop and moved back to your lips, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and licking everywhere he could reach, kissing you hungrily, filthily. You were both moaning into each other’s mouths, tongues tangled together, trading heavy breaths between you. You could feel your clit throbbing, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so turned on.

“I’m so hard for you,” Eddie moaned against you, biting down on your bottom lip harshly. You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan, making Eddie chuckle darkly.

“Can I…feel?” you asked, feeling shy.

Eddie groaned at the question, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “God, baby, you don’t even have to ask.”

Nervous, you reached over towards the bulge in his jeans. It looked intimidating enough from here. The second your palm pressed against it Eddie let out a desperate sounding groan, pushing his hips up against your hand even harder. You could feel that he was absolutely rock hard. It surprised you how hard he was, and you briefly thought he had to be uncomfortable trapped in there. He had too many clothes on, anyway.

You tugged on his shirt, wanting it out of the way. Eddie smirked at you, picking up the hint immediately as he shrugged his leather jacket off his shoulders before pulling his t-shirt over his head. You took in his bare chest in front of you, the pale skin now exposed to you. You rubbed your fingers over his belly and chest, feeling every part of him you could reach. Eddie just let you, head leaning back against the wall as he enjoyed your touch.

“Feels good, baby,” he breathed, eyes closed. He looked so pretty like this, you thought.

You trailed your hands lower, down to the bit of hair leading beneath his jeans. Eddie’s eyes shot open to look at you when your fingertips brushed there. Your hand moved lower, rubbing over his hard on over his jeans again, earning another delicious groan from his lips.

“You seem uncomfortable in here…” you said teasingly as you rubbed him.

He looked up at you, the expression in his eyes nearly pained. “Yeah…I am,” he said, voice quiet and gruff.

“I could help you with that…” you said, giving him a squeeze that dragged an even more delicious sound from him. “If you want me to.”

“Yes, god yes, please,” Eddie begged, sounding as desperate as he felt. “Please touch me, baby.”

You hadn’t realized you would like the sound of him begging, but you absolutely do. Your hands moved to his belt, working open his buckle. Eddie watched you work, big brown eyes focused on your lithe hands undoing his belt before moving to the button and zipper of his jeans.

“Wait-“ Eddie said, causing you to halt your movements immediately and look up at him, concerned. He smiled at you sheepishly. “Can you take yours off first? Wanna enjoy the view.”

You rolled your eyes at the dopey grin on his face, but obliged. You gave him a little show as you wiggled your hips, pushing the denim down your body until you kicked it away. Eddie’s eyes never left you once.

Left in only your panties now, you moved back to Eddie, fingers hooking onto the waistband of his jeans. He lifted his hips off the ground as you pulled them down for him. He was left in nothing but his boxers, your eyes immediately drawn to the very, very large tent in them.

“You look like you need some attention,” you teased.

It took everything in Eddie to resist wrapping his own hand around his cock, pulsing and aching and neglected, but he wanted you to be the one to touch him. “Yeah, uh…could definitely use some,” Eddie said, his cheeks flushing pink. Cute.

You watched him as you leaned forward, licking against the tip of his cock over his boxers.

Eddie shuddered, a shaky groan leaving his lips. “Don’t tease me sweetheart, please,” he begged. You could see his dick twitch beneath the material.

As much fun as you were having, you decided to take mercy on him. Eddie lifted his hips again for you to pull his boxers down, his girth slapping against his abdomen. Your eyes widened at it - long, hard, and needy. Tip red and leaking, cock twitching as he looked at you looking at him.

You wrapped a hand around his base, drawing a hiss from Eddie. You started stroking him slowly, thumb running over his tip and smearing his precum along his length. Eddie groaned, resisting the urge to buck his hips up for more. “God, baby,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes closed.

“Feel good?” you asked him, eyes darting between your hand moving along his beautiful cock, and his beautiful face, contorted in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned, eyes opening to look into your face. “Faster, sweetheart, please.”

You sped up your movements, jerking him faster. You reached your free hand down to grasp his balls, making Eddie whimper. “Fuck, please, your mouth, babe…”

You didn’t think you could deny anything he asked of you right now. You got yourself comfortable on your knees in front of him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his tip. Swirling your tongue around the head, flicking over the slit and tasting him. Eddie’s hand shot up to grab your hair, his thighs trembling beneath your hands. You sunk your head down his length, determined to take as much of him as possible. You gagged about halfway down, already feeling like you were taking so much.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his voice strained and fist shaking against the back of your head. “You can take all of me. Open that pretty mouth nice and wide for me.”

You moaned around him at his dirty words, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his hips bucked up into your mouth. “Shit! Sorry!” Eddie exclaimed as you came off him quickly, gagging and coughing.

“It’s okay,” you said, wiping the tears from your face once you were breathing normally again. You wrapped your lips around him again and sunk down, opening your jaw as wide as you could. Tears started falling again once you had taken almost all of him, and you nearly gave up, if not for the sinful noises Eddie was making as you took him deeper and deeper. When you finally felt your nose pressed against the brown curls at his base, you felt accomplished. You hummed around him, pleased with your work.

Eddie, however, was hanging on by a thread.

“Shit, shit!” he hissed, fist clenched in your hair and whole body shaking at the feeling of his entire cock buried down your throat. He knew you probably couldn’t breathe, so he only held you there for a few glorious seconds before he let go, resting his hand on your head instead of forcing it.

You began to bob your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could every time. Eddie moaned wantonly above you, fingers brushing through your hair affectionately as you gave him the best head of his life. “God, baby, that’s…fucking incredible, shit…”

You pop off of his cock and move down to lick at his balls, sucking them into your mouth which makes Eddie’s moans go higher. You take his length back in your mouth and suck him messily, saliva dripping down onto his thighs. Neither of you cared. It caught you by surprise when Eddie pulled on your hair, pulling you off of him entirely. You looked at him confused.

“I was about to bust down your throat, babe,” Eddie laughed, completely breathless. “And I wanna fuck that cute little pussy first.”

Eddie pushed you against the floor of the van as he crawled over you, long curls reaching down to tickle your face. You giggled, which Eddie loved, and he dipped his head, shaking it to tickle you with his hair even more.

He dipped his head lower to press kisses to your neck. He started slow, placing kisses across the skin, before he started nipping at your pulse point, biting and sucking the sensitive spot. The feeling drove you crazy, and you arched into him, turning your head to give him full access. Eddie absolutely devoured your skin, moaning as he left dark love bites to remember him by.

His hand slipped beneath the hem of your panties, fingers tracing through your glistening folds. “So wet for me…” Eddie mumbled against your ear, sending chills through your body. He held his hand up to show your wetness covering his long fingers, before sticking them in his mouth and sucking them clean with a groan. “And so sweet.”

Eddie was on his knees between your legs before you even realized what was happening, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties as he slowly began to peel them off your body and down your smooth legs.

He placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs apart, eyes drinking in your pussy spread out before him, all for him. “God…” he muttered to himself, and his cock kicked up with anticipation.

“Want you, Eddie,” you begged him, as he was taking far too long just to stare. You couldn’t really blame him, though, as your eyes lingered on his body a little too long, too.

Eddie smirked at you. “Yeah? Want my cock, sweetheart?” he teased, leaning forward to trail his lips along your jaw.

“Please,” you begged him, pushing your hips up against him, his cock sliding against your slick folds. Eddie groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he rocked his hips against you more.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asked, lifting your legs around his waist and rubbing his cockhead against your throbbing clit, lining himself up at your entrance. “‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

“Please, please,” you begged again, writhing beneath him, so desperate to feel Eddie inside you. You felt your pussy clenching around nothing, your mind running with thoughts of what it will feel like to have all of him.

Eddie needed no further encouragement. He began to push in, groaning as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was intense but also incredible. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock. You grabbed onto his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as he stretched you more and more with every thick inch. Your brow was furrowed, eyes closed tight as he finally bottomed out, keeping himself still despite his every instinct to absolutely ruin you.

“You okay, baby?” Eddie asked, eyes intently on your face. You opened your eyes, letting out a shaky exhale. The pain was starting to fade as you got used to his girth.

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “You can move.”

He pulled his hips back, slowly drawing out of you. Despite the pain you had felt, being empty was worse. You wanted nothing more than for him to fill you again. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long.

Eddie set a steady pace, thrusting into you slowly yet powerfully. You couldn’t help but moan with every thrust, each push inside of you pressing right up against something that felt absolutely incredible. Your body trembled beneath him as Eddie leaned over you, rolling his hips into yours again and again.

“Shit, you’re so tight, baby,” Eddie muttered against your cheek as he pressed deep inside you, causing you to cry out at the intense pressure against your bundle of nerves. “Taking me so well. You’re so good for me.”

You moaned at his praise, wanting to be a good girl for him. “Faster, Eddie, please,” you whined.

With the permission he’d been waiting for, Eddie sped up his hips, fucking into you harder and faster. The van was rocking, windows fogged up, the obscene sound of your skin slapping together and loud, uninhibited moans filling the space and tuning out the music.

Eddie buried his face in your neck, loud whines coming from his pretty lips. You never imagined he could make the noises he was currently making, and it made your clit throb even harder, your pussy clenching tightly around his length.

“So good baby, perfect little cunt,” Eddie rasped out, sounding like he was utterly lost in the feeling of you. He began to babble, mind lost to the pleasure. “That’s my good girl, taking my fat cock like that. Letting me spread her wide and take what’s mine. Filthy little slut, all for me, fuck, so fucking tight and wet, pussy’s perfect.”

All you could do was hold onto his strong shoulders, desperate for some sort of lifeline as he fucked you stupid. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as he began to move even faster, hips snapping into you brutally now as Eddie sets a relentless pace. Desperate moans spilled from your lips uncontrollably. Eddie’s free hand gripped onto your thigh tightly as he rutted into you, his other arm holding all his weight above you.

“So…so good, Eddie, feels so good, you’re so deep, s’big, can’t take it…” you find yourself rambling without a single coherent thought in your brain.

“You can take it, sweetheart, you are taking it, taking me so good,” Eddie encouraged. He bit down on your shoulder, and you cried out, squeezing around him. You felt something building deep inside you, growing rapidly with every move of Eddie’s hips.

“Eddie…’m close…” you whined, and he moaned against your neck.

“Pretty girl, my girl. I want you to come all over my cock,” Eddie begged, hips pistoning into you at a rapid pace. He let go of your thigh and moved his free hand between your bodies instead, pressing down on your swollen clit and rubbing circles against it. “Wanna feel you make a mess all over me.”

The moans leaving your lips were so whiny, desperate sounding and loud, you hardly even recognized them as coming from you. You didn’t even know you were making noises at all. Eddie shoved you right off the edge, and your release hit hard. You tightened your legs around his waist as you arched beneath him, hips bucking up to meet his movements as you moaned his name over and over again. Eddie pressed his lips onto yours hard, swallowing your moans as he licked into your mouth again, his own moans growing in intensity now.

“Fuck…shit, sweetheart, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m almost there, keep squeezing me just like that, Christ,” Eddie babbled as his thrusts turned quicker, frantic and sloppy with no rhythm as he desperately chased his release. He pumped into you roughly a couple more times before he stilled with a cry, painting your walls with his seed deep inside. He pumped his hips slowly through the last of his orgasm, making sure you got every last drop.

Your bodies were wrapped around one another as you came down from your highs, both trembling and trying to catch your breath. Once Eddie had composed himself enough he began placing kisses all over your neck, up to your cheek until he eventually reached your lips, where he placed a sweet, lingering kiss.

Eddie rolled off of you, not bothering to go farther than the floor of the van next to you. He reached for his cigarettes and pulled one out, placing it between his lips and lighting it. The smoke filled the van, and you scrunched up your nose at the smell.

“That was fucking incredible,” Eddie laughed, breaking the silence. You couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Yeah. It was.”

Eddie draws circles onto the skin of your belly with his free hand as he drags on his cigarette. “Maybe…you should be my girl.”

Your gaze shot to his face, your eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiled, brushing some of your sweaty hair out of your face. “You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. I love spending time with you.” A smirk grew across his face. “Perfect pussy, too.”

You smacked him on the arm, making Eddie laugh. “You’re such a perv.”

“I just can’t help myself around you.” Eddie looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen in his life. A revelation. A goddess.

You sighed, noticing the time on the van’s radio. “Shit. I probably need to get back home before dad realizes I’m gone.”

Eddie sighed heavily, too, as he finished his cigarette and stubbed it out. “Yeah. I’ll drive you back.” He didn’t want to see the night end, but he knew you were right. He began to pull his clothes back on as you did the same.

The whole ride home, you thought about Eddie. Not just the incredible night you’d shared, or that he’s your boyfriend now, but thoughts of the warrant creep back into your mind, interrupting the happier thoughts. “What’s going to happen?”

You didn’t have to explain what you were referring to. “I’ll, uh, have to do some time,” he said, like the only thing he was sorry about was that it was hurting you. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You nodded, feeling like tears were going to spill from your eyes at any moment. You had just found this amazing, beautiful thing that made you so happy, and now it was going to be taken away. Locked away.

Eddie reached over and held your hand in his. He gave it a comforting squeeze. “It won’t be long though, promise. You’ll wait for me on the outside, yeah?” he asked, teasing grin on his face.

You mustered up a smile in return. “‘Course I will. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you.”

Eddie smiled at that, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss on the back of your knuckles. “I don’t deserve you.”

He stopped the van a safe distance from your house again. After a goodbye kiss that turned into an accidental makeout session, Eddie walked you back to your window.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease as you prepare to sneak back into your bedroom.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist. “Always.” He kissed you again, and just like every time he’s kissed you, you melt right into it. It could have turned into another makeout session if it wasn’t for your dad’s bedroom light turning on, snapping you back to reality.

“Be safe, Eddie,” you told him, kissing him one last time.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he said. He lifted you up to help you reach the window easier and you climbed back inside, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

You turned back to the window when you stood. Eddie gave you a wink, smirk on his face, before he turned and disappeared back into the darkness.

That night as you laid in bed you could still feel him all over you. Tingles all over your body everywhere he touched. You would never be the same, you felt.

Eddie Munson was going to be the death of you.

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[sargebarnesx]

Stay

Pairing: Jim Hopper x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex

Words: 1,454

Summary: Recliner sex with Jim Hopper. Simple as that.

Author's Note: I have been editing this for over a week now and I’m tired of it so here it is, hope it’s good 😂

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Her determination was clear from the way she took the remote and the beer from his hands and shoved them both onto the table beside his chair. She didn’t even bother with the tv, as whatever was on would be long forgotten by the time she was done with him.

She climbed on top of him, stopping when her knees were planted on either side of his broad thighs. Her panties caught against the zipper on his jeans and she whimpered, placing a light hand on his chest. He hadn’t said another word, he only watched her through half lidded eyes. Finally, she leaned forward and caught his mouth with her own.

They kissed like this for a while, barely opened mouths, not quite meeting at their center. But she could tell his breath was starting to hitch in his throat at the thought of what was to come. His hands were trailing up her thighs, pushing her dress higher and higher. He was so warm, so gentle as he fingered the goosebumps that had popped up on her skin the moment she climbed on top of him.

She wanted more.

He needed more.

He growled low in his throat and planted one large hand on her ass, then he wrapped the other around her back and pulled her into him. He couldn’t help but moan as she ground against his hard cock. He wanted to open his eyes, to pull away and look at her thighs stretched over his lap, look at her tits rising and falling with each ragged breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop kissing her. She nipped at his bottom lip, finally dipping her tongue into his mouth. She circled her hips, relishing in the feel of his denim-clad cock rubbing against her. Her hands moved to his hair, something she knew he loved, and she raked her nails across his scalp. He moaned lightly again, this time opening his mouth to speak against her needy lips, “Oh, baby...need...more.”

His voice was muffled by her mouth as she poked and prodded her tongue against his, lightly licking and sucking. He was breathing so hard; he felt like his heart was going to thump out of his chest. They stayed like this for a few moments more, groping and kissing and teasing.

His fingers were trailing against her covered pussy, no doubt feeling how wet he had made her through her underwear. She groaned into his mouth, which only encouraged him to keep going. He slipped his long, thick fingers into her panties, then finally, into her soft, slick heat. She gasped and pressed her forehead to his. “Oh fuck,” he whispered, “Who made you this wet, baby?” He pulled away, pushing his fingers deeper as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes finally reaching his. “I said,” he murmured, “Who made you this wet?”

She jolted as he curled his fingers inside of her, his thumb brushing her sensitive clit. “You,” she choked on her own words, her throat feeling dry. He smirked up at her, hoping to remember the way she looked in this moment forever. The way she threw her head back as he rubbed her, the way her eyes were squeezed shut while she relished in the pleasure, the way she dug her teeth into her kiss swollen lip to stifle a whimper, the way her hands gripped his shirt for dear life.

“I didn’t hear you, baby,” he rasped under his breath. He pulled his fingers from her center and slipped them between his lips, sucking and savoring her taste. Her mouth fell open as she watched his tongue swirling around his fingers. He was the sexiest man she had ever seen. She wanted to please him, wanted to see his desire for her etched across his face.

She gripped his wrist, pulling his fingers to her mouth. Her lips parted and she wrapped them around his digits, sucking so hard that her cheeks hollowed out. Pulling his fingers from her mouth with a pop, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against the stubble on his cheek and then the shell of his ear. Lightly, she traced it with her tongue before whispering, “You did, daddy.”

Something inside him snapped.

He growled again, so deep in his chest that she could feel it rumbling beneath her. His dick was straining against his pants, painfully so, and he gripped her waist harshly. He wanted her wet pussy. He wanted to make her writhe on top of him. He needed relief. He needed her.

“Baby, please,” he begged, “Fuck.”

She adjusted her position and he took in a sharp breath. He hooked a finger into the top of her dress and pulled it down until her soft tits bounced out. He caressed her smooth skin and traced circles around her hard nipples, then took one in his mouth. His mustache added another level of ecstasy and she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt like her skin was on fire underneath his touch. “Will you fuck me?” she asked desperately, attempting not to whine, “Please.”

He smirked, lapping at one nipple and pinching the other. “I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, tapping her ass. She knew this signal; he was telling her to lift up onto her knees. He wrapped his lips around her nipple again as he reached beneath her to unzip his jeans. He sighed with relief once his cock was finally released from (what felt like) its denim prison. He pumped it a few times with his right hand, then reached under her dress to move her panties to the side.

The groan that escaped his throat once she sank onto his dick was carnal.

“This sweet little pussy just drives me crazy,” he purred roughly, keeping his gaze on her through hooded eyes. She was falling apart, impaling herself on his thick cock over and over again. He slapped his hands on her ass, pulling her up and pushing her down, up and down, and up and down.

“Daddy, I love the way you fill me up,” she whispered, her thighs beginning to tremble. He slid his hand up from her ass, over the curve of her hip and waist, then planted it in her hair. He gripped a handful and pulled her face to his, “You keep talkin’ like that, baby, and you’re gonna make me cum.”

She loved a challenge.

“You gonna cum inside me? Make me scream?”

He grunted in response, his eyes rolling back as she trailed her tongue over his jaw. He pulled her hair harder as she smirked at him, feeling accomplished. She loved getting him worked up.

They kissed again, a clash of teeth and tongues and heavy breathing. “Mm, fuck,” he said gruffly, swallowing her moan with his own. She leaned back, planting her hands on his knees. He moved his hands to grip her tits, pinching her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “I can feel you getting close, baby,” he said, raking his eyes over her body, “Can feel you squeezin’ me.” She nodded, unable to speak.

“Please cum for me, baby, daddy wants to feel you explode on his dick,” he pulled her to his chest and placed hot, open-mouth kisses on her neck. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, feeling like she was about to combust. His thighs tensed beneath her.

“Oh, fuck, baby!”

That pushed her over the edge. Her self-control shattered, she could feel herself fluttering around him, coming undone, releasing all the pent-up frustration she had been holding in. He was gripping her hips so hard, hard enough that she was sure he’d leave a mark. He couldn’t help himself, he loved the way she looked riding out her orgasm on top of him.

Suddenly, his cock jerked inside of her and she felt his heat overcome her. His face fell into the crook of her neck and he moaned deeply. “Fuck fuck fuck!” he cried, groping at her body, grabbing whatever he could. His hips stuttered up into her and he groaned as he coated her walls.

Then, they were still. He leaned back, stretching his arms over his head, breathing heavily. Her body fell limp against his chest, totally spent of all energy. He grinned, his eyes heavy. He could feel her heart thumping against his own as she tried to steady her breathing. “I don’t know if I can move,” she admitted sheepishly, attempting to stretch her legs out. He wrapped one arm around her to hold her in place, then reached up to smooth a hand over her messy hair.

“Then don’t,” he whispered, “Stay here with me.”